Sung to God rest Ye Merry Gentlemen Author Unknown
Don’t cut this little pure black vein,
Let nothing get to near,
Remember the markets bad right now
and there is lots to fear,
To cut you now would be a tragedy
When tinies are so low;
O tidings of credits and more,
Credits and more,
O tidings of credits and more.
From singers I will protect you
No claim jumpers will come near.
And unto certain shepherds
Their sheep had better fear,
I placed my paintmark prominently
Making this crystal all mine:
O tidings of credits and more,
Credits and more,
O tidings of credits and more
The sorters at those tidings
Rejoiced with me in mind,
And left me pages saying,
To sort for you would be divine,
And went to look at the market
This claim will do just fine:
O tidings of credits and more,
Credits and more,
O tidings of credits and more
But when to the ranges I did return,
The claim I could not find
They found me hold up in a vein,
A storm had passed nearby;
My mind was gone my body in shock,
I was placed in the LTC:
O tidings of medics and more,
Medics and more,
O tidings of medics and more.
This story I do leave to you,
Within my sled it is stored,
The guild will always be good to you
As long as you bring in crystal hordes;
But if you do like me my friend
Your likely to get bored:
O tidings of medics and more,
Medics and more,
O tidings of medics and more.
Author: Allashandra