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There once was a dwarf,
A dwarf always drunk, Who was known to often barf, and who smelled like a skunk. On the road to a tavern Our dwarf met a fair lady, resting in a cavern cradling a little baby. Entranced by her beauty, the dwarf went to her Making himself as attractive as possible, He donned his cloak lined with fur To get the lady's attention, he cleared his throat. She looked over at him, And in her eyes he saw, his chances were quite remote. In a supposedly provoked fit of rage He screamed and drew his ax He ran to the lady intent to engage But as he got closer, he felt tired and lax He slowed to walk and stopped a few feet from the lady He took a deep breath before his self esteem dropped a new low But suddenly he saw, the lady was cradling, not a baby But a fierce Oak Crossbow. The drunk dwarf then knew, he was a dead drunk little man Never again to feel the morning dew, but to be killed by a bandit Woman |
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