brown faded leather a dancefloor for flickering firelight
a humble throne for the king of stories
the sharp fangs of the biting cold
reflected by the warm wood cabin's glow

We circle round to hear the tales, to laugh and sing
but other business, for the king has a new lord to knight
passing his holy scepter a simple pine branch we call the talking stick
Lord Zod the eldest rises and weaves a mystical tale
of witches and wizards, aliens and fair maidens
a tale of great battles and deeds fought atop noble steeds
there's laughter and jokes and a heart-warming message
at the heart of theme: family

Though we are all orphans we feel like family tonight
Lord Zod ends his tale wishing a merry Logmas to all, and to all a good
night

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Aeguary, in the year 933 AF.