Born of a whore and a reject
Raised to fornicate with trees
He's exactly what you'd expect
Now listen to my story, please

A fierce hunter of Haern's great favor
He strode into battle with claws
Blood flowed, he tasted the flavor
When all of a sudden he paused

Where was his enemy, the great beastly King?
Unharmed when the fight was done
In his very own jaws, his wife lay dying
Isn't this how a battle is won?

Oh, but think less of him not,
For Duiran's hero, cry no tears!
He reigns supreme, the Heartwood's top
Being pleasured by the tip of a spear

Keep heart though, o' Duiran
Wylliam will try to be the better man
If you prove yourself beyond the bounds of dense
He'll hastily write a poem in your moronic defense!

Wylliam has my
undying gratitude for
proving my worn point


Sincerely surprised that you have not figured out that your disgusting
and mentally impaired kin are the main objects of ridicule in Sapience,
Your King and Executioner
Somewhat Amused


Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Midsummer, in the year 263 MA.