To you, as promised, Lord Weaver, is the song I mentioned earlier,
re-rendered in print, since you missed the astonishingly good live
version.

==============================================

A song, as promised, here is sung
By Rellin, a toad, worse off than dung.

Not that this would be the first time that
I have found myself in such a situation,
In fact, much of this is plagiarised
From a song I once sung during m...

I won't continue the previous rhyme,
But I will briefly sing that
The second and fourth lines
Do indeed, rhyme to the line.

For it is Wise, to not call the Weaver,
By names other than what he meant us
Else we die, fry, and electrify.

Now, I have an intelligence of only four,
I can't find pleasure with the cheapest whore.
My staffcasts barely reach forty-four,
I fear already, that my song doth bore.

Not that I have any intention of stopping,
For a voice with such beauty bears no cropping,
When I could be a handsome grook, out bashing,
I am here, a loathsome toad, thrashing.

So I beg you, Lord, have pity upon a foolish mortal,
Let me fight, nearly die, and deperately portal.
This song, my Lord, is rendered to thee,
In apology for such a slovenly me.

You shout, "Oh cool, I'm not a toad any more..."

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Phaestian, in the year 454 AF.