The Daedra Went to Colovia

Old Man Vile was feastin’, a-sittin’ on his throne

Sucking up some hapless ghosts and crunchin’ on their bones.

But Old Man Vile was greedy and his belly growled on still

for every scrap of every soul could not that belly fill.

So the Daedra frowned and stamped his foot and looked further afield.

Old Man Vile with Daedra smile went walkin’ in the Weald.

And there he spied with Daedra eye young Kastav at the lute.

He knew this was the soul for him, his huntin’ might bear fruit.

He said “here boy I see you play, and rather fine I grant,

But tha’rt no Daedra, that’s for sure, and play like me you can’t!”

Old Man Vile’s a wily one and Kastav brash in youth.

“Old Man Vile,” young Kastav said, “I’m the best an’ that’s the truth!”

“Yay very well,” said Old Man Vile, “I’ll make a bet with you.

Play your lute and play it good and if you’re boast is true,

You’ll win my lute o’ solid gold, but if ye prove a liar,

I’ll take thy soul right back with me to roast upon my fire!”

“Why that lute’s fine” said Kastav brave, “I’ll hang it on my wall,

When my song’s best and yours is less and you win nowt at all!”

Old Vile just laughed and snapped his claws and held the lute of gold

It hissed and spat and thunder roared and Vile struck these chords bold:

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“Old Man Vile I’ll tell you what, your playin’s pretty fine

But I told you once that I’m the best and that there lute is mine!”

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With that the Daedra groaned, and began to stamp his feet,

He roared with rage and smote the earth for he knew that he’d been beat.

Old Man Vile did not lose well, and snapped his bloody claws

And to him came his mighty hound, a lute held in his paws.

The hound did growl and split apart and turned all into scamps.

Each held a lute of blackened wood and they began to dance.

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And Kastav frowned and on the hill he drummed his booted feet

And the ghosts o’ Kastav’s blood cried out “By Hrol, Lord Vile’s a cheat!”

And the Wealdmen brought their ghostly lutes and Kastav played again.

Now just like Vile instead of one, young Kastav played as ten:

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And this time even Old Man Vile had to admit defeat.

“Kastav boy, come take my lute, I know when I am beat.”

So Kastav took that lute o’ gold and said “don’t come again!

Old Man Vile you know your place, and this is man’s domain!

I’ve beat you once, I’ll beat you twice,” and when all that was said.

He swung the lute and knocked the horns right off of Old Vile’s head!

But no prize o’ Vile’s is as it seems and Kastav didn’t know.

He was brave and rash and played that lute right then and there and lo!

Those razor strings o’ solid gold would play no mortal score.

They cut poor Kastav’s fingers off, he played the lute no more.