Across yon mountains, jagged tall,
Resides a mighty Ogre's hall.
To merchants wide its riches call,
For Ogre's bored will sometimes trade,
Or sometimes stick you with a blade.
This is a risk that merchants take,
For gems and gold a fortune make.
If you can stay from off a stake,
Ogre's will exchange their wealth,
For human slaves of any health.
Merchant cries to Ogre King:
"Oh mighty beast, I kiss your ring,
And bring for trade many a thing,
But first my skald shall sing of you,
To offer deference of due."
Ogre bellows back at man:
"Music impresses not my clan.
Get on with things or your hide I'll tan.
I see that plump man in the back,
His juicy fat makes my lips smack."
Merchant spies a deal at hand:
"Oh angry one, that man is bland.
Try these two from the Southern Land.
Their spice and sizzle is quite nice,
When fried alongside wild rice."
Ogre shouts in fit of rage:
"My judgement you would dare to gauge?
I'll eat you and I'll eat your page!
Pluck off your arms, bite off your head,
And pound your bones to make my bread."
Merchant scrambles back in fear,
And squeezes out a single tear.
For him, he knows, the end is near.
Ogre's guards surround his men,
Move quick to kill all of them when...
Merchant makes a desperate plea:
"Oh Tyrant, won't you spareth me?"
Ogre laughs with vicious glee,
Lifts the doomed Merchant on high,
And looks him straight unto his eye:
"What little fools you humans are,
To try and swindle mighty Scar.
To risk your lives, to come this far.
I'll eat you all and save my gold,
And wait for more stupid humans bold."