The Wobbirbob

If ye travel the forsaken land
And feel a sudden shake
Take it as a certain sign
The Wobbirbob shall wake

Stir up not the Wobbirbob
Down in its gloomy den
For many men have ventured there
But none came up again

Scoff not at the Wobbirbob
They say such jest is heard
The rocks recall each utterance
Reporting every word

Scornful men who step inside
The entrance of its lair
Speak a tongue of gibberish
With looks of pure despair

When kings of old grew greedy
And sought out riches great
Their hearts did pine for ever more
And thus each sealed his fate

Among them was King Tilian
Who reigned beyond the sea
He was told that dreadful foe
Hid gold beyond his dreams

He mustered up all able men
Each was clad in shining chain
Set they forth across the sea
Through biting wind and beating rain

They came upon that fearful lair
And brandishing their blades
Marched below the light of day
Bearing lamps to show the way

Naught came up again but smoke
And distant, woeful cries
Then Tilian fled his company
And sick with shame, he died

Forget ye not this grim account
As years pass by with haste
For greater pain than this may come
When tales are put to waste

Stir up not the Wobbirbob
Down in its gloomy den
For many men have ventured there
But none came up again