This land is laced with vilest curses
Already sick of living
And ready to taste the mortal's bliss
I bid the reading stranger greeting
You guests who find these stories
And tears that looking here will bring
Performers formed songs and glories
From town to town they traveled
And turned seedling dreams to trees
And one unhappy morning graveled
A village quite unpleasant
Secluded, hated, and also wild
Until a troupe unwound the moment
And trooped into Maeseh
Unthreading rainy clouds, they went
They sang their songs until the halfway
Then stories were reread and acted
The crowd applauding half the way
The folk enjoyed as much as wanted
Then minstrels turned weary
And started searching out a bed
Regardless, faces became so scary
"Regarding scarring like this,"
They said, "this is the place to be"
