Hark! Gnaash hear a damsel
Cry out in distress.
Goblins skulking?
Ogres hulking?
Could be she stain her dress.
Gnaash race to the rescue
But have no charging steed.
Just two big feet,
(Flat but fleet,)
A flagon full of mead,
Two sharp sword, and armor
Gnaash make with own hand,
A wooden drum,
A massive tum,
A smile wide and grand.
Gnaash not dark or dashing,
No adorned with golden locks.
No castle tall,
No festooned hall,
Gnaash cave made out of rock.
But Gnaash, like any page
Or squire or knight of noble name,
Know chivalry
No frivolity.
Honor, respect; the same.
When Gnaash help a lady
(or an ally or a foe),
No look reward
Or new accord,
Wave nice and off Gnaash go.


Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Sarapin, in the year 413 AF.