A/N: This little poem is derived from the traditional English song 'Christmas Day in the Workhouse', as recited by Terry Wogan on youtube. The original text is given in the second chapter for comparison. The workhouse is the place in Victorian England well known from 'Oliver Twist', where paupers were confined in miserable conditions for a pittance of food. As a fellow White Male Authority Figure presiding with ghastly pomp and self-importance over a situation of terrible exploitation and suffering, Goblinslayer 'plays' the Workhouse Master; Mr Bumble in 'Oliver Twist', with Priestess taking the role of the Vicar, obviously, and the other haremites sharing the role of the Workhouse Mistress. I feel that I've made fun of the characters I like, as well as those I don't, in this poem, as well as mocking the chip on my own shoulder in the final verse. I'm expecting some heartfelt gratitude for introducing readers to this unsung treasure of British working-class humour!
It was Christmas day in the guildhall,
With adventurers full of cheer.
Their faces were filled with gladness,
Their bellies were filled with beer.
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In came the Goblinslayer,
As he strode through the draughty halls,
He cried, "Here's to the second season!"
And the Rookies answered...by heaving a half-brick at him!
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The Slayer, he was sore outraged,
And swore "By all the gods,
"You'll get no Christmas pudding then,
You trio of silly sods!"
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"If FIGHTER isn't coming back,"
Cried one man, bold as brass,
"Take your second season, and the pud,
"And stick them up...the far end of the table, with Overlord, Shield Hero and the other unwanted shows!"
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The Slayer rose to cleave some skulls,
But just before he started,
The Cow girl, grown to fifteen stone,
Gave three loud cheers and...smothered him with her chest, along with the rest of the harem!
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With Phoenix Down, the Slayer arose,
And prepared to carve the duck.
He said, "Who wants the parson's nose?"
And Wizard answered… "In 19th century British parlance, the parson's nose is the fatty knob of meat above the bird's anus, and in this context–it could be called Goblinslayer's nose, because you suck!"
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Some manga and the light novels,
Went round in Christmas parcels, (PArr-Soles)
Some peasants tore the pages out,
And began to wipe their...eyes and noses, at the events of volume 1.
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The Priestess bought a holy book,
And read out little bits.
Said one Swordmaiden, near the back,
"That girl gets on…very well as a main heroine, since she hasn't been raped yet."
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A steaming bowl of white bread sauce,
Was handed round to some.
An aged gourmet called aloud,
"This bread sauce tastes like…a product of all the pointless sex fanfics round here!"
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Mince pie with custard was the next,
And all received a bit.
A hero mused, "This pie's not bad,
"But the custard tastes… as scummy and suspect as everything else in this world, including the bread sauce from the last verse!"
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All of the party then began,
To pull their Christmas crackers,
Dwarf Shaman held his too low down,
And blew off both his…own paper hat, and the Lizardman's hemi-penes–that is, the things lizards, and presumably lizardmen, have between their legs instead of KNACKERS!
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"This pudding," said the Goblinslayer,
"Is solid, hard and thick.
"How am I going to I cut it?"
And a man called… "Use your sword! It's useless for anything else, since you didn't use it to save the Rookies!"
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Elf Archer, dishing out the food,
Spilt custard down her front.
She said, "Aren't I a silly billy?"
And they said, "You look…"–but FIGHTER knocked them out for being rude to a lady!
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With beer, the Slayer began to moan,
Of tragic family loss,
"I have so much trauma!" FIGHTER, though,
Did not give half a…minute before she explained that he was a Big White Male Marty Stu hero, in a light novel world where women existed to either join his worshipful harem or get raped by goblins that he could subsequently slaughter to show just what a wonderful hero he was. That his claiming, after what had happened to her, to be a tragic hero, or anything but a rapesploitative male power fantasy whose whole story and career was rooted in her suffering...was, frankly, offensive.
Then she drew on the power of Ki and beat Goblinslayer to death with his own helmet.
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The Priestess RAISED UP Goblinslayer,
To entertain her flock,
He asked, "What shall I show you?"
And the harem cried…"Promised Neverland, a dark show with no sexual violence! Or Berserk, a dark show with no gratuitous sexual violence–in fact, that isn't a gratuitous waste of ink in its entirety!"
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"Your Slayership, may I be excused?"
Said Warrior– worthy chap!
"I don't much care for Ani-may,
I'd rather have…passionate sex with Fighter, now I'm finally back from Hong Kong!
(To which Fighter pouted "Hmph, idiot!" before dragging him offstage by his belt to general rejoicing)
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The party then began to sing,
And shook the guildhouse walls,
"Merry Christmas!" cried out Tiny Tim,
And the Wizard answered… "Hang on, you're from a different story, that wasn't a load of…and we already used this rhyme in the second verse!"
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The Slayer stood on the burning deck,
Playing a game of cricket.
A ball rolled up his trouser leg,
And stumped his middle wicket!
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The Slayer stood on the burning deck,
His real name's Ahab Trollocks.
For the very last time, I regard this show,
As…not really my cup of tea at all!
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Then it was Christmas day in the harem!
With the eunuchs caged up there.
GOBLIN EUNUCHS, truth to tell,
Bemoaning their lot unfair!
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Then the Sultan–LELOUCH LAMPEROUGE!
Strode through his marble halls,
He cried, "What do you want for Christmas, boys?"
Screamed the goblin eunuchs, "BALLS!"
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The Sultan, he was most displeased,
And swore, "If you're not good,
"I'll be a lousy rotter then,
"And stop your Christmas pud!"
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"If FIGHTER isn't coming back,"
Cried one, still bold as brass,
"Take your pud, and Goblinslayer's sword,
"And shove them up…etc etc."
