Oh, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,

Oh, oh, oh,

Oh, oh, oh,

Oh, oh, oh, Stand home. who is there?

Nay, but do speak to me thine name, stand and unfold thine'sself.

Tis I, the prince of mystery and woe, Sir Davidis of Florence, show thyself.

Well met, my lord, tis I the motley fool of farcicalish unexplainery, the famous Davidus of Stecoli.

A pyrast thou from fog and gloom, and not unlike the red-eyed cheerless harbinger of doom himself, the West Virginia manmouth.

Indeed, good sir, I sneak a liken to a tatselverm on highest mountaintop,

and there are they unto unto thee I say,

Y'all should leave.

Good Davidus, pray tell, from where may one divine some knowledge of the witchic arts,

which watch our woeful function soberly.

I know not of these witchic arts, my lord.

Alas, my love for such is vexed at best, and seek I not the truth of such delight.

May thinks this fool knows more than he lets on.

Tis well, then fool, that thou art ignorant.

The truth is far more vexing than the lie. I take my leave and hope we meet anon.

Indeed, and farewell good sir, and may luck give you light, for witches meet where truth escapes the night.

Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh morehore. Hell and good morrow! We are old and thy me!

Well met, you may speak to me in the tone of David Stecco.

And now may I speak to me, as though I am Lord of the Keep,

...