Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: s082@larve.fireplace.dragons-inn (Ketil Malde) Subject: Re: Barmaid's responses... Message-ID: References: <1992May12.141624.18513@dartvax.dartmouth.edu> Date: 13 May 92 18:43:24 'Oh, I'm sorry - I forgot to introduce myself. I am Mopper Marux, of the Ariendel family. And this is of course the Ariendel Mop. Very glad to meet you, ma'am!' The northerner by the fireplace is smiling at the conversation by the bar, the smile softening his rough features. 'I see you have a very ancient mop, there. Nice piece of handywork, I'd say, and I should know!' He pauses, looks around the inn, at the other guests, then turns back to the boy: 'I know a song about a mopper, would you like to hear it?' Without waiting for a reply, he rises to his feet, and begins to sing in a rough, but not unpleasant, voice: "The Northerner's Song" or "The Mopper's Story" In long forgotten, distant realms, and ancient lands unknown, There dwelt a worthy mopper man, the greatest in the town. As ravens shrieked and eagles swam, and pale moons lit the night, he mopped his masters halls with glee, so was he bound by plight One day the ravens shrieked no more, not for the master dear, No longer should the sun or moon, shine in his whitened hair. All on his own, in world alone, When age his master slew. The mopper left the ancient house, the only place he knew He wandered wide, and journeyed far he fought with sharks and bears And carried just his mop with him, For many, many years One day, he came unto an Inn, a shelter from the wild, Withinn that house, he first time met a woman with a child. The womans tale was sad to hear, as was his story, too Ere long in th'damsels arms he lay and love between them flew So passionate theyr feelings were, so hot their flowing lust The wedded were the foll'wing day, as they both felt they must The child grew up to be a man, all skilled in mopping floors, and sweeping dust, and cleaning chairs, and th'handles on the doors In long forgotten, distant realms, and ancient lands unknown, a Mop was passed from dad to son, as old Age took him home One day she shall return again, this mother of all Mops! And dwell forever with us here, till all the dirt is stopped -- » Ketil Malde, In real life: s082@ii.uib.no « » ISO-8859-1 rules Honk if you love unicorns! «