[InklingElf]

Move over Don Mclean, yours was for Van Gogh but this one's for the Barrow-Wight:

Barrow, Barrow Wight
Paint your layout black and green
Look out for your storming sheen
With eyes that know the darkness in my post
Shadows on the threads
Sketch the bones and the orkish thrills
Catch the Wights give them winter chills
In colours on the ghostly linen plain

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your Barrow-ty
And how you tried to set the newbies free:
They would not listen; they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Barrow, Barrow Wight
Flaming brands that brightly blaze
Swirling on my violet face
Reflect in Barrow's eyes of reddish hue
Colours changing hue
Mourning threads of ample grey
Weathered members lined in pain
Are sooth beneath the Barrow's wraith-like hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your Barrow-ty
And how you tried to set the Orlies free:
They did not listen; they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not comprehend you
But still your moderators came through
And when no hope was left in sight
for our Barrow Barrow Wight
You took your post as Barrows often do
But I could've told you Barrow:
This forum would not be the same
Without the Wighty things you do

Barrow, Barrow Wight
Progress hung in empty halls
Frameless threads on countless falls
With eyes that watch the morgue and can't forget
Like the members that you've met
The ragged words, your bloody prose
Lie crushed and grained into my failing brain

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your Barrow-ty
And how you tried to set the bad posts free:
They would not listen; they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will.