I remember the horrid Black Warren
Where I fought through a horde of foul vermin;
Careful of spiders and sure not to err,
Surrounded by rodents and trapped in their lair.

I slaughtered and slew though my chances were few,
For Id entered alone to meet harrowing doom.

There came a great rumble,
The great stones did tumble,
Awakening one who was king of the rats.

Pieranotzu, a fat but formiddable foe,
His shrieks in my ears still do ring loud and long;
The scene was all wrong as I was laid low-
The cat, struck by the mouse with one near-fatal blow.

I laid on the ground,
Unable to writhe,
My mobility taken as violent tithe.

I laid on the ground until I next woke,
Awakened to find that my limbs were all broke.

Theres a man in the city who pays for dead rats,
They plague our fair city like swarms of black gnats.

I seek out the vermin in sewers and shops,
Collect them like children do marbles or tops.

The warren left wounds deeper than eyes can see-
And if someone should pay that terrible fee,
Id rather that rats pay rather than me.

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Aeguary, in the year 927 AF.