There once was an author
from and island so long
I made his acquaintance
and he sang me a song
“For I am but a poor fantasy scribe
give me a chance and I’ll write you a line
Dragons and wizards and paladins too
Just stay here a moment, I’ll entertain you.”
So I sat for while and listened to his words
fabulous yarns such as I’d never heard
just one problem at the end of his tale
I was a pauper, so he did not make a sale
I looked him over and said with a frown
I might not be rich but I can spread word about town
then the sky opened up,
with a big THUNDERCLAP
I looked above me and I said:
“Well, crap.”
Still, I knew I would not be deterred
these were the best stories I’d ever heard
So I went past the houses…
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