Oh dear. This is turning into quite the party.
It's too bad I left my party hat in the flames.
Or someone stole it.
What a pity.
So you don't like lymerics.
What about prose?
Free verse?
I can't please everyone you know.

For those at their homes just joining,
welcome to the event of the season.
In this corner weighing in at,
oh who gives a damn.
The city of evil,
the roast and the toast,
the captial of the Mystara Fails at Existing fanclub...
GIVE IT UP FOR MHALDOR.

And in this corner,
weighing in at...
does a city even have a weight?
The city of good, the Bastion of the north,
the captial of Mhaldor Fails at Making Fanclubs Fanclub...
GIVE IT UP FOR ASHTAN.

That's right, I am Mystara,
so now what, is everyone in Mhaldor
going to line up,
and call me a whore,
in five hundred different ways?
Does whore even have
five hundred synonyms?
Hey Mhaldor, let me know
when you start selling tickets.
I'll make up the shirts,
with a little help
from my friends.

This started about cities,
now it's about my pants.
Believe me the cities,
can't even fit in my pants.
I need some more meat on my bones.

And for the record,
what I wrote wasn't a lymeric,
but a simple rhyme.
This be a lymerics, kittens:

There once was a big yellow cow,
who could stand and take a nice bow,
he liked to eat grass,
but had some go up his...face,
and when it did, he cringed and said "ow!"

So what's the lesson we learned?
It takes one to screw in a candle.
But a whole city of screws to repeat one thing.



Penned by my hand on the 20th of Aeguary, in the year 573 AF.