Listen close, ya old coots,
first let me introduce myself.
"Git here Ylvarie!" my ma hoots,
whenever she can't reach the shelf.

I can hear some of y'all say,
"Hey, and just why should we care?"
That's because this is the day
You'll hear of my gobblin' tale.

Now I may just be a newbie,
I may have a lot to learn.
But whatever my age may be
oh for a turkey do I yearn.

From the pygmy dungeons I arose,
Not a wattle or beak in sight.
Wander I did through the meadows,
Looking for that bird of delight.

I sailed the several seas,
Counted the not-so-several cows.
Asked the squirrels, begged the bees,
Not a shop was left I didn't browse.

They tried to tempt me with a bird,
A crow or a pigeon, not even a fowl!
But nay, none could quench my thirst
Only a gobbler will do for this clown.

Here I am, clucking desperately,
though my search proved featherless.
If even my sincerest words fail me
I must be doomed to a life turkey-less.

Ylvarie the Yapping Yodeler

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Daedalan, in the year 961 AF.