I have never known a hearth or house

I wander like a lone field mouse

I used to know a safehaven-

But now my home is gone


They're always at eachother's throats

Butting heads like feuding goats

But if the queen of pixies fair truly cared for brooding imps,

I know not why I never saw her slaying cruel hellcats


I used to slay the pygmy cook for matters of pure spite

And see, I never did give him his fair respite

He was the last thing my blade touched,

Before I left that land


I used to know a butterfly-man

Vellis, hear me if you can

I did not mean to leave that land

Without giving you your net

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Sarapin, in the year 927 AF.