Let's avoid Rinenud,
His style's too crude
And his words so dreary
They make me weary.
Also evade the Queen,
Too high is that chin
From above which
Only boring words leak.
Plus know he's not an elder,
His crawling I still remember
And the smell of his diapers
Still lingers on my nightmares.
And Illysia, dear
Don't go too near
Of that dirty irish man,
He still smells of the can
Where he lived before
He came ashore.
And that assures
He still ignores
Something called hygiene,
And that's never a lonely sin.
