(Just a comment, so that you guys know: last night, I couldn’t sleep till around 4:15, and any poetry you may see in this post and further ones was written around 3. So if the quality of the poetry you see is, errm, questionable, that’s why.)
"Of course I’ll put it on my mantle! It’s wondeful!" she said in a voice that hid her bewilderment very well indeed. Suddenly Menelien, the ugly and clumsy elf, jumped onto her table, feeling rather embarrased, but unable to stop herself, and, as heads turned, she began to declaim:
The Barrow Downs have just turned three-
They are three years into the grave.
There are so many posters and wonderful mods-
They’re all learning to do the wave.
So yell a drunken hooray for the Barrow Downs!
Give with slurred voices a mighty cheer!
Give a cheer for the Barrow Downs,
And the three years it’s been here!
All of us here have some toasts to raise,
To B-W who made this true,
And though others tell us we don’t have lives,
We don’t care, with the Downs, we’ll never be blue!
At this point a few of Menelien’s friends had sufficiently recovered from the shock of hearig her reciting poetry to grab her by the feet and pulling her off of the table. They quickly pinioned down her arms and legs to keep her from reciting any more of her drunken rhymes. But above the din, a last piece of thrillingly bad poetry floated out...
The RPGs are most exciting,
An interesting challenge in writing.
The Shire is ruled by Pio and Child.
The Shieldmaidens seem to be going wild [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] (to be continued [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img] )
The last line was most appropriate, as the shieldmaidens seemed to be doing quite a bit of damage to the door, and it was beginning to bend in most severely...
[ May 02, 2003: Message edited by: GaladrieloftheOlden ]
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"Glue... very powerful stuff."
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