Kubla Matty

HOT-Fab, Limerick style:

There once was a shaman named Matty

Who believed herself to look quite knatty

Though the HOTFB some may mock

She thought she was kind of a jock

Even if the reality was damn tatty

Sorry Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Sorry.

In Azeroth did Mataoka

A Helm of Fierce Bison decree

Where Yan-Zhe the sacred river ran

Though dailies measureless to man

Down to a fatiguing sea

So twice five flight paths of dark soil ground

With dungeons and towers were girdled round:

And here were the gardens filled with herbs and rills*

Where humming violet light of Crystalsong’s tree

And here were forests ancient as the Grizzly Hills,

Enfolding treasures of gear of greenery

But oh! That deep romantic knitted cap which slanted

Down the long brown hair athwart a noggin cover!

A savage place! As holy and enchanted

A e’er beneath a waning moon was daunted

By a woman wailing for her stolen golden clover!

And from this noggin, with ceaseless hubris seething

As if this earth in Borean leather pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain of Sha was forced:

Amid whose swift windshear’d burst

Huge fragments vaulted like dismounted hail

Or chaffy plagued grains in dungeon’s flail;

And ‘mid these dancing elfs at once and ever

It nerfed the hunter’s once-useful quiver.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through pixels and bytes the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to ogre-man

And sank in tumult, without any breathing potion

And all who hear should see her there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

Her flashing eyes and messed-up hair

Weave a circle ‘round her like Mike Tyson

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For she on bosses’ hides hath fed,

And herald the Helm of the Fierce Bison!