O'
Little fish, little fish
Swimming circles
In that old water dish.
The bait in your mouth
Is bloated and old,
No wonder why
You've grown so cold.
I enjoy fishin'
It's such a leisure,
Hoistin' em up to dry
Is where I take my pleasure.
You've heard it first
And hopefully, clear as a lake
Last thing you want, is your body
Hoisted up by a snake.
If I catch it again
And surely, I will
You'll be noosed in a tree,
Hanging by the gills.
I used to be the rogue
That helped put out endless forest fire
But will no longer, as baited teaming
Is your best conspire.
You'll find me in the trees
Singing songs of hope,
As I think you and your friends
While wielding a piece of rope.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Aeguary, in the year 864 AF.