Listen now and you will hear a tale of an ocean peir.. Waves all day and
through the night, wash it gently in delight... once painted blue has
now turned grey, the waters come and take away... Thick and strong
foundations were, the water now has weakend her... And in the storm a
fell wind blows, a fatefull gust and down it goes... And so the pier now
sinks below, remembered by a cawing crow. Do not cry for in away, the
pier lives on another day. Back to that of which its born, a fog will
grow hailed by the horn. Rain will fall another year, and grow a tree to
make a peir.

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Aeguary, in the year 355 AF.