He woke with a heyal,
Then read a poem in the meyal,
Hitting him sharp as a neyal,
Before even eating his keyal.

His rage burst like a geyal,
Even though it would feyal,
Rattling through his chainmeyal,
Wisdom could never preveyal.

Between his legs was his teyal,
Lifting justice' own sceyal,
Did he sob and then weyal,
Oh no! It's slander! Betreyal!

Execution! Not jeyal!
His arms in a fleyal,
I sentence this femeyal,
To death! By my hand! An Impeyal!


Penned by my hand on the 18th of Miraman, in the year 947 AF.