The Most Poignant Story of Vaul
Chaluel = Shal' well

One breezy summer morn Vaul trod
the rocky hillside trails;
to barter for a square of sod,
the holdings in his pails.
Careful not to tip his ware,
he scaled the steep incline;
His destination Merchant's Square
to trade his finest clover wine.
As the sun drew high o'er head
he came upon downtrodden folk;
Fatigued and laborous they led,
a hindered ox with broken yoke.
Vaul relieved their tired distress
with cool and heady drink.
He sought the cause of their duress;
repaired the maimed yoke's faulty link.
Proceeding after such delay,
he stopped to rest at Chaluel's Inn.
The proprietor in fretful way
explained his sad chagrin.
No ale had he till eventide;
Angry patrons left in haste.
Without regret did Vaul provide
his wine of savory taste.
Vaul then turned directly home;
No bartering to be done.
He thought of rutted muddy loam,
for which sod now he had none.
He sighed, though still felt no remorse;
in fact his heart was light.
He'd go back to his earthen source;
begin a ferment yet this night.
He whistled, rhythmic to his gait.
It helped to make his journey pass.
Now Vaul walked through his entry gate;
This morning's mud was lush green grass.
The sorcerer of fortune viewed
this kind man lay aside his needs.
He heard remarks of gratitude;
beheld the good man's selfless deeds.
Above the ground of Vaul's abode,
his chanting took to air;
to nurture growth where Vaul now strode
that met him unaware.
And high up on the hillside,
Chaluel filled a stein;
Ale untouched when set beside
more opted clover wine.