There once was an author

from and island so long

I made his acquaintance

and he sang me a song

“For I am but a poor fantasy scribe

give me a chance and I’ll write you a line

Dragons and wizards and paladins too

Just stay here a moment, I’ll entertain you.”

So I sat for  while and listened to his words

fabulous yarns such as I’d never heard

just one problem at the end of his tale

I was a pauper, so he did not make a sale

I looked him over and said with a frown

I might not be rich but I can spread word about town

then the sky opened up,

with a big THUNDERCLAP

I looked above me and I said:

“Well, crap.”

Still, I knew I would not be deterred

these were the best stories I’d ever heard

So I went past the houses…