Queenmanyeyesandheavingbottom lends Workerweakerbeakthanmost her slimesong and windywords in the dankcorner. Borrowed from manymothers by littledaughters and little-er-sisters down to Queenmanyeyesandheavingbottom through royalbirthfilth.
It squelches:
Chymaneverfar and Chymedaggerearth sewed silkaccords
to splash a Lock-ed-Heart's blood in order to pax-afford
Queenfacesmanybastard's unruly egg-ilk
it was sewn from and with Her own royalsilk
And in return, She gave chitin Kwambeaks
to part the Hill and see the God-Leaks
Wordwinder Chymevikk came through dark of cave
Queen wanted silkwords, which he then gave
His silkwords were verse, in which truth did wade
For Her help to take God-Leaks, he'd give Her aid
Queen under-cracked-earth and above-egg-beds She would be
Wife of Chymevikk for all Chyme to see
She showed them the way and then Dwymedume
Who the soon-dusty Chyme which then slew
and sewed silkaccords with each other too
Lock-ed-Heart God-Leaks shan't imbue
But Kwam scuttled and tore Chymaneverfar's thorax in twain
Chymevikk then spake the betrayed a Chymesaint
His sweetened windwords with Queen, he did abstain
Her lovers' silkaccords were, afterall, in vain
One of the workers had been scholarly in a previous life, and even through his drunken stupor, he thought ill of the scrawled verse; its abhorrent adherence to rhyme and rhythmn, its poorly constructed stature, and worst of all, its insufferably incoherence. He scribbled a copy down on a scrap of parchment to show his friends in Sadrith Mora, and then the group happily defaced the slate wall, erasing the verse with the sujamma they had just imbibed.
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It was the dead of night. Masser and Secunda peeked through the holes in the erratically-woven cloud blanket. A lonely piece of fabric whirled in the wind through the empty streets beneath the floating Ministry of Truth in Vivec City. A gruff Ordinator stopped its dance with a heavy boot, and retrieved it, examining it. It was constructed of a fine, silky substance that the Ordinator could not quite identify, and words were written on it. It simply said:
I should have been a pair of ragged Kwama claws, scuttling across the floors of silent egg mines ~V
Beneath the golden mask, the Dunmer frowned and tossed the thing into the canol.