*The following is becoming increasingly popular in many of the taverns, public houses, and bars across all of Rathfall.*
There once was a lady of a great green land
Who’s fields were something to behold.
Her plot were yet untouched by any hand
A fertile place worth more than gold.
The grass grew green and fertile there
A wild emerald amongst the wheat.
Not shovel nor plow did come to bear
Upon her verdant seat.
Her friends and family would decry
Sweet nothings all about her worth.
Their words, it's said, could make her fly
So that her skirts would ner touch the earth
The source she was of parental pride
Their praise could not be stilled.
State of her field she could not hide
For it all still sat untilled.
But men it's said are willful things
And so they did approach.
No empty hands, as each one brings
An offer they would broach.
Fertile land each one did want
To expand their lonesome host.
First mowers with friendly chant
“To be the first to cut this grass is what we want most!”
The lady did not hesitate to send them all away
This field was her pride and joy, she would not let it die.
Next came the farmers nothing could keep them at bay
With coy intent they would ask “Where could our seeds be left to lie?”
She laughed at them with great contempt
And sent them on their way.
No word from lord, baron, or stable boy could find a way to tempt
The Lady from her grass green land, her private hideaway.
Yet came a knight from a fort of brass
He brought his meager host.
Before the Lady he was not crass
He was kind and gentle and never would he boast.
While talking to the gentle Knight
Something began to change.
His eyes became a blazing light
When their plans started to arrange.
And so the knight presented his tiny host
He asked for help and aid.
They needed water, needed food, perhaps a little toast.
The fields around them would suffice, if the lady would abide.
Relent did the lady then, to her not so noble knight
He plowed her field and planted see to sate his appetite.
So for months they all did wait for a nice bite,
But the field did not produce a thing, the seed had taken a blight.
The knight he left the Lady alone
And she did sit and weep mourning her loss of loam.
With time her grass it has regrown
But underneath see the scars of what the plow had sown.
There once was a lady of a great green land
Who’s fields were something to behold.
Her plot were yet untouched by any hand
A fertile place worth more than gold.
The grass grew green and fertile there
A wild emerald amongst the wheat.
Not shovel nor plow did come to bear
Upon her verdant seat.
Her friends and family would decry
Sweet nothings all about her worth.
Their words, it's said, could make her fly
So that her skirts would ner touch the earth
The source she was of parental pride
Their praise could not be stilled.
State of her field she could not hide
For it all still sat untilled.
But men it's said are willful things
And so they did approach.
No empty hands, as each one brings
An offer they would broach.
Fertile land each one did want
To expand their lonesome host.
First mowers with friendly chant
“To be the first to cut this grass is what we want most!”
The lady did not hesitate to send them all away
This field was her pride and joy, she would not let it die.
Next came the farmers nothing could keep them at bay
With coy intent they would ask “Where could our seeds be left to lie?”
She laughed at them with great contempt
And sent them on their way.
No word from lord, baron, or stable boy could find a way to tempt
The Lady from her grass green land, her private hideaway.
Yet came a knight from a fort of brass
He brought his meager host.
Before the Lady he was not crass
He was kind and gentle and never would he boast.
While talking to the gentle Knight
Something began to change.
His eyes became a blazing light
When their plans started to arrange.
And so the knight presented his tiny host
He asked for help and aid.
They needed water, needed food, perhaps a little toast.
The fields around them would suffice, if the lady would abide.
Relent did the lady then, to her not so noble knight
He plowed her field and planted see to sate his appetite.
So for months they all did wait for a nice bite,
But the field did not produce a thing, the seed had taken a blight.
The knight he left the Lady alone
And she did sit and weep mourning her loss of loam.
With time her grass it has regrown
But underneath see the scars of what the plow had sown.
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