Though the Vreeport fleet can be kind of sweet
The docks are no place to wait
And the Vreeport Guards are often hard
On loiterers at the Gates
The Commonlands are filled with bands
Of orc troops out for kicks
But for a pestulant bore, there's none I loathe more
Than the dark elf called Gulliver Gix
He lurks in the dark where stray curs cringe and bark
For travellers chasing a wisp
When they least expect it, he'll jump in and protect it
Mocking his foes with a lisp.
"Goody two-shoeth," he sneers and then disappears,
Hiding once more in the sticks.
For lame-*** taunts, there's no greater ponce
Than that sissy boy, Gulliver Gix.
They say that maybe when he was a baby
His parents thought he was a girl.
They were quoted verbatim saying they woulda ate 'im
But the smell would have caused them to hurl.
Who knows what he thinks as he lurks and he stinks -
Perhaps he's hoping to pick up on chicks -
But in the lands East and West, there's no more contemptible pest
Than that ogre's rump, Gulliver Gix.
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