The verses beckon through the tavern's door, Enjoy its firelit warmth and grab an ale; The poems tell of heroes, blood and gore, They offer dragon's hoard and banshee's wail; Behold the creeping dread that stalks the gloom You bitter cynics, come and prep your smirks But gentler readers, please don't flee the room, For other poems offer humour's quirks; They speak of magic hijinks and kebabs,...