This is a song, which does take place
In the home of the D'ni race,
Before they left without a trace;
A song of glory, love, and hate.
And the songwriters, such as me,
Who specialize in parody,
Will the tale to you relate:
Kings, and fans that ventilate.
They have been formed, the eighteen guilds of D'ni!
The refugees came
To a new home underground.
People wanted to go to the ages,
Write on the pages,
Regulations all around.
Rule after rule, yahr after yahr,
They went to ages more bizarre.
They watched their influence spread far,
And the fear of other men.
No one saw things as they are:
Book-worlders and they were on par.
They would listen a bit, but then
They'd do it all again.
They have been formed, the eighteen guilds of D'ni!
The refugees came
To a new home underground.
People wanted to go to the ages,
Write on the pages,
Regulations all around.
They have been formed, the eighteen guilds of D'ni!
The refugees came
To a new home underground.
People wanted to go to the ages,
Write on the pages,
Regulations all around.
They are now gone, the eighteen guilds of D'ni!
It is not funny.
People are dying en masse.
Will they take pardons, properties, or money?
No, they want revenge.
They release the poison gas.
They release the poison gas.