Ode to Fanico

Your wish is granted, O loyal Peon!
Kneel and grovel and thank the King.
My next bardic subject, you will be on
The minstrels have new songs to sing

Musing all day, with legs spread wide
No man in Duiran from Fanico, can hide.
Poor Wylliam, when he returns at night
Cannot tear his eyes from her gaping site.

The neighborhood Humgii of Duiran!
Has anything evaded her mouth?
No! I say, she knows well every man
Better than concubines in the south

It matters little, says Wyll as he knits
For he is her husband and just will he be
Anyone is bribed for a sum of credits
She pays him well enough, says he

Your wish is granted, O loyal peasant!
Kneel and grovel, give praise to the King.
The truth of my fair words have bent
The ears of my kingdom to me

Horrified by the truth of his wife spoken
By the great King, Wylliam lashes out fast
To find his wife between his jaws, broken
Duiran's pride, revealed at last!

Her wish was granted, O loyal peasants!
Grovel and kneel before the King next
A final word, Your King presents
Fanico is friendless, unless it's for sex.

Sincerely enjoying the idea of continuing to humiliate the Te'straif
family further if they continue libeling against King Arcan,
Your King
Mildly Amused


Penned by my hand on the 24th of Midsummer, in the year 263 MA.