It was at the lonely tavern on that night That I would perchance to see an unusual blight Which plagued many who would come,
And what they saw, they said to some,
The times that came during such strange springs Would bear all but the most unusual things.
Upon their arrival, it was then, I knew,
That I would see things glimpsed by few,
But all would be easier said than done,
For the journey ahead promised anything but fun,
Contrary to their headstrong leader,
Who could hardly be seen with such a bottom feeder As I, or so I would believe, as time has shown That I couldn't be trusted. My wind has blown Upon the vessel of doom, and into hell,
Where only the dead and damned dwell.
On this journey, I would learn the secret of my life,
But until then, all I would know is strife.