Hear days of yore that came before all known of history,
and learn you well what fate befell a man of misery.
Of broken dreams I'll sing,
and save's remembering.
A lad too young had soon begun a journey wide and great,
though traveled long and growing strong he knew not his own fate.
A black and dire end,
forsaking kin and friend.
The land was doomed, a darkness loomed with curse and magic grim,
our hero bold would not be told this task was not for him.
He rode against the storm,
though verily twas warned.
Twelve beasts of hell with magic fel he battled through and through,
and each in turn his blade would burn and bring death's calling to.
For days he waged his fight,
An epic tale to write.
The world was saved, our hero bathed in glory and in power,
For weeks and years there were no fears but festivals each hour.
Rejoicing round the earth,
the lad of honor worth.
Alas, the boy too filled with joy neglected to record,
and mem'ry blank, his spirit sank, rivers of tears were poured.
He never saved his game,
only himself to blame.
So listen you and know to do one act as you have fun,
Early and soon, not late of moon, enscribe the deeds you've done.
Or suffer as our lad,
Whose destiny twas sad.
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1 comment:
Oh my dear. You didn't save your game? I'm so sorry. I've had SO many moments like that at work with projects due, it's not even funny.
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