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by Wenceslas Farrier
Let me tell you of a family who rule by dread and fear,
Black hearted, cruel and viscious, they never shed a tear.
All the world knows to hate them,
all the world knows their name.
But are they quite as evil as they do loudly claim?
For there is no light in the Darkendale,
they'll kill you in your sleep.
For there is no light in the Darkendale,
just shadows, dark and deep.
But something's not quite right here, it's whispered in the street,
for it seems that this dark household are fluffy underneath!
Let me tell you of a Councillor, the Master of our Coin.
He's greedy and he's grasping, to avarice conjoined.
No-one wants to shake his hand,
no-one wants to be his friend.
But he's just a healer, who wants their wounds to mend.
For there is no light in the Darkendale,
they'll kill you in your sleep.
For there is no light in the Darkendale,
just shadows, dark and deep.
But something's not quite right here, it's whispered in the street,
for it seems that this dark household is fluffy underneath!
Let me tell you of a paladin, of royal stock it's said.
Cold, cunning and quite ruthless, schemes springing from his head.
Behind a smile lurks darkness,
behind a smile plotting pain.
But the scary part of his name is Aldain.
For there is no light in the Darkendale,
they'll kill you in your sleep,
For there is no light in the Darkendale,
just shadows, dark and deep.
But something's not quite right here, it's whispered in the street,
for it seems that this dark household is fluffy underneath!
Let me tell you of a family, who really are quite nice.
Kind hearted, soft and gentle, they'd never cheat at dice.
All the world needs to love them,
all the world needs to care,
Some might say that I am lying, but which of you would dare?
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