First, an apology. I seem to have had problems posting News, recently,
so there's a little backlog of work. I promise to lie low after this
catch up session.

The Glutton

Well now I'll tell you of a tale
Of a man that greatly sinned
Of passions raised
And vices praised
And the evil Southern Wind.

Now Alluc was clearly a glutton
And his single love was food
Though he wasn't averse
To a kiss or far worse
When he was in the right mood.

A seven course dinner was nothing
To Alluc's encompassing taste
Main courses and soups
Or ripe cantaloupes
Not a scrap of his meal went to waste.

Now at a particular dinner he sat
With a fair and gentle young maid
He was rude and quite coarse
Throughout every course
And an improper advance he then made.

Now the lady was not quite so pure
But was something, it's said, of a witch
So she cast a black spell
To put Alluc in hell
She made all of his food seem too rich.

At first Alluc noticed little
Although indigestion appeared.
But when eating a prune
He belched a short tune
And an illness was what he then feared.

The symptoms got steadily worse
With the passage of every day
No belch from the mouth
The wind had moved south
And there it looked likely to stay.

Soon every meal that he took
He had to take all alone
Just a small bite of pheasant
Produced a smell quite unpleasant
And a somewhat raspberry tone.

Even a single, solitary grape
Enticed the Southern Wind a-coming
And a glass of cold beer
Brought pain to his rear
And set up the whole room a-humming.

So the moral of this story, friends
Is all things in due proportion.
And if you make a pass,
At an innocent lass,
Please - please - exercise some caution.


Penned by my hand on the 11th of Lupar, in the year 395 AF.