Ode to Barnum
Author's Note: I completed Fable II this morning and burst out laughing at the scene I am about to describe. I don't normally do poetry, but given the subject matter it seemed somehow appropriate.
Oh Barnum from my days of youth,
You tinkered many odd design,
And since then- if we speak the truth-
You've done little more than whine.
From Oakfield and her golden shores,
To Westcliff hunt of Balverines,
To Bloodstone filled with thieves and whores,
(and nothing rhymes with Balverines).
I've heard you rant about your luck,
Your broken bridge and squandered gold,
It seems you're always getting… screwed.
And we're both getting old.
And while I fought through hordes of foes,
Of hollow men, and spire guards,
I've stopped awhile to heed your woes,
And now I pay this bard.
To sing a song of your demise,
Most untimely though it was,
It came to all as a surprise,
To see you bite the dust because.
The man you died in service of,
Was the third Hero of this place,
And when you took his photograph,
He shot you in the face.
And as you lay upon the floor,
You'd think me to protest and such,
And avenge this murder- yours,
But I never liked you all that much.
But 10 gold coins I can hand,
To have a song spun from this bard,
My dear friend, and stalker, Roland,
Who earns me renown while I sit in bars.
And so from Oakfield's golden shores,
To Westcliff- hunt of Balverines,
To Bloodstone filled with thieves and whores.
Uh…. Your dead… yeah.