Mafol said the callus was from the boot
And refused it as the battle horns did hoot
The goblin noticed his socked toe
the mace struck a splattering blow
Now Mafol is suffering from pain acute
There is inebriation to be used and words to be abused...
Arise!!
Arise!!
Thread of time past, but not luster lost...
Arise!!
so.. I'm sitting outside in the shade and foot-stomping on the ground, working on rhymes that imaginary crews of dwarfs might use to coordinate their heavy labor with stone, or as tavern-chants. The inhale and exhale of breath is important to coordinated labor, so each line is intended to be sung with four foot-stomps during the exhale of the words, followed by four silent foot-stomps during the inhale. There are also *'s to mark the 1st and 3rd foot-stomps for each line.
Title: "Ode to Olivine"
*The barkeep offers *from a deep well
*Who'll be sick, *we cannot tell
*the green stone does* floor the great hall
*so your puke will be* hidden from all
*We'll give the musicians *a rousing farewell
*With laughter and blame* for the smell
Title: "Etur the Mighty"
*Etur the mighty *was once a wee tyke
*He crawled over bodies *and minetracks alike
*The featherwood whispered *"I'll knock in your head"
*But Etur threw down, and made it his bed
*Now minecarts are feared *for the punch they pack
*But Etur has grown, *and he punches back.