chumbucket wrote:I was hoping this would be a poem.
Upon a Minoc morning dreary, while I pondered the dead beast clearly
packed with a curious amount of ill begotten ore
while I plotted to continue hacking, suddenly there came a tapping
as if with pickaxe they were rapping, tapping the vein for more
the metal was gone there was no more
Ah distinctly I remember a place far North of the city Vesper
As each limb of the horse was strewn upon the ground like manure
Eagerly I finished the gruesome task, taking the last of the ale from my pack
I wondered who had owned this ass, as guilt haunted me as never before
they shall be nameless evermore
And the silken sad trail of whispers rustling from a wayward crowd
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic PWN I never felt before
So that now, to still the beating of its heart I stood repeating
"Tis some visitor seeking to spread his violence and gore
Some late vistor seeking to spread violence and gore
Mmm...jerky...is there any more?"
Presently my soul grew stronger, impatient to stay here any longer
"Sir" said I "or Madam truly your forgiveness I implore
But that I was hacking, this beast made for packing
and so faintly you are laughing....at this mess on the floor
That I scarce was sure I heard you, not laughing but sore
Dead Horse here, and nothing more
Deep into dark mine peering, long I stood there wondering fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams that immortals would be shocked to explore
But the silence was broken harsh words were all spoken
and every finger was poking at whom they abhorred
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words "KILL MORE"
merely this and nothing more
Back into my chambers turning, candelabras faintly burning
Soon I heard a tapping somewhat louder then before
"Surely," said I "Surely it must be I got gas from the horse
Let me see then if I have orange potion, every crate to explore
let my stomach be still a moment, while I check the whole floor
I just got alot of wind and nothing more
My door flung open , when with many a flirt and flutter
in there stepped a mongbat, who smelled of death and horse
not the least mannered was he, not a minute stopped or stayed he
But as if an imprudent lord or lady perching still at my brickhouse door
Perched and sat and nothing more
Then this monkey bird, beguiled my sinister to smiling
by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore
"Though your face stern and devilish at that" I said "surely you are no mongbat"
Ghastly grim ancient mongbat who followed the scent kept with me from the horse
Tell me thine name, so I may return all thine ore
Quoth the Mongbat "Nevermore"