Sitting in the corner
Thinking up a song
The bard awaits a summons
Hopes it won’t be long
Before the tune is called for
And played to the delight
Of souls in joy assembled
Long into the night

The scribe is at his desk
He waits with pen in hand
Eager now to answer
The written word’s demand
To leave behind a record
That will for long remain
And echo in the eye
Longer than the bard’s refrain

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