Paladin
12-14-2005, 09:54 AM
Twas the night before Winter-Feast
And all through Ironforge
The 50’s grouped up
To quest Searing Gorge.
The 60’s were milling,
Some auctioned, some banked.
But none of them stirred,
While Darkshire got ganked.
The gnomes were all tucked
Snug in their beds,
As strange hats and whirlly things
Spun on their heads
I was about to log off.
It was just too darn quiet,
Except the guy spamming [Krol Blade]
Hoping someone would buy it.
When up by the airport,
There arose such a clatter,
I paged a GM
To see what was the matter.
The GM arrived,
To find a dwarf bearded gray,
And 8 flying pigs,
Pulling a giant red sleigh.
“You can’t be here!”, she said.
“Don’t you dare land.”
“If you don’t leave right now,”
“Your account will be banned!”
He cracked his whip loudly, and called them by name:
“On Goretusk, on Rumblesnout, on Hogslop and Pugnose”
“On Hamhock and Bacon”
“On Full, on Rogues!”
As they circled the runway,
Faster than griffons his pigs did they fly,
The dwarf waved at the GM,
And heaved a great sigh.
“Maybe after the Expansion,”
“They’ll get this area done.”
“Until then, I’m going to Booty Bay.”
“To lay out in the sun.”
South the Greatfather flew,
As fast as the tram.
Leaving the Jinglepocket Goblins,
Stuck in a jam.
So the goblins captured a moonkin,
And dressed him in a red suit,
And put him in front of the bank,
To pass out their loot.
Things looked bleak for the season,
Like there’d be no Feast this Year.
But the goblins salvaged the fun,
By gifting Molten Core gear.
And all through Ironforge
The 50’s grouped up
To quest Searing Gorge.
The 60’s were milling,
Some auctioned, some banked.
But none of them stirred,
While Darkshire got ganked.
The gnomes were all tucked
Snug in their beds,
As strange hats and whirlly things
Spun on their heads
I was about to log off.
It was just too darn quiet,
Except the guy spamming [Krol Blade]
Hoping someone would buy it.
When up by the airport,
There arose such a clatter,
I paged a GM
To see what was the matter.
The GM arrived,
To find a dwarf bearded gray,
And 8 flying pigs,
Pulling a giant red sleigh.
“You can’t be here!”, she said.
“Don’t you dare land.”
“If you don’t leave right now,”
“Your account will be banned!”
He cracked his whip loudly, and called them by name:
“On Goretusk, on Rumblesnout, on Hogslop and Pugnose”
“On Hamhock and Bacon”
“On Full, on Rogues!”
As they circled the runway,
Faster than griffons his pigs did they fly,
The dwarf waved at the GM,
And heaved a great sigh.
“Maybe after the Expansion,”
“They’ll get this area done.”
“Until then, I’m going to Booty Bay.”
“To lay out in the sun.”
South the Greatfather flew,
As fast as the tram.
Leaving the Jinglepocket Goblins,
Stuck in a jam.
So the goblins captured a moonkin,
And dressed him in a red suit,
And put him in front of the bank,
To pass out their loot.
Things looked bleak for the season,
Like there’d be no Feast this Year.
But the goblins salvaged the fun,
By gifting Molten Core gear.