Come here child, let me tell you a story.
A wanderer so witty went to a Land so scary,
A Land so scary made his stay so gory,
And so was provoked the wanderer’s fury.
Find a seat, you will like the story.
The name of the Land, my dear, was Derry.
Too much witches, too many bodies to bury.
Hunger spiced their food, no such thing as curry.
Ghosts punctured hymens, none in town a cherry.
Find a seat, my dear, really scary was Derry.
The king of the Land said his daughter will marry
Anyone who can indeed restore the poor Land’s glory.
Harry Potter is a fable, the wanderer was not Harry.
The princess didn’t have to be bait, the wanderer felt so sorry.
What a father will give her daughter to any mongrel to marry?
The wanderer boiled at last into his little armoury,
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