Cormyr and the Dalelands

Written by me, based on that other famous piece:

Every Liche Down in Licheville Liked Death a whole lot...
But the cleric, Who lived just north of Licheville, Did NOT!
It could be he'd killed one too many tarasques,  
It could be, perhaps, he'd seen drows way too many in masques.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his mace was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason, the drow or the mace,
He stood there on battle night eve, hating every liche face.

Staring out from the temple, with a clericy frown,
he hated what was done in that old Lichy town.
For he knew every Liche down in Licheville bedrolls,
Was sleeping now, dreaming of dining on trolls.
"And they're setting their tables!" he snarled with a sneer,
"Tomorrow is battle! It's practically here!"

Then he growled, with his good fingers nervously drumming,
"I MUST find some way to stop Liches from coming!"
For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Liche girls and boys,
Would wake bright and early, rush for blades they called toys!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!
Then the Liches, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST!
FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would feast on hobgoblin, and rare mindflayer beast.
Which was something the cleric couldn't stand in the least!
And THEN They'd do something He liked least of all!
Every Liche down in Licheville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, with zombie blades whining.
And the Liches would start their whole dinner dining!
And the more the cleric thought of this Liche Battle Meal,
The more the goodie thought, "I must stop this whole deal!"
"Why, for fifty-three years I've put up with it now!"
"I MUST stop this battle from coming! But HOW?"
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
THE GOODIE GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

"I know just what to do!" The cleric laughed in his throat.
And he made a Glabrezu, both a hat, and four-armed demon coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Lichy trick!"
"With this coat and this hat, I look just like that dick!"

"All I need is a Nightmare..." The cleric looked all around.
But, since Nightmares are scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the old goodie? No! The cleric simply said,
"If I can't find a Nightmare, I'll make one instead!"
So he called his dog, Max. Then he took some red thread,
And he tied paper flames on the top of his head.
Then He loaded some bags and some old empty sacks,
On a ramshackle sleigh And he hitched up old Max.

In that quiet Liche town the only sound through the air

Was the wind on liche bones, which all were so bare.
"This is stop number one," the fake Glabrezu hissed,
And he sneaked through the door, empty bags in his fist.
He almost got caught, once, maybe two.
Then he peaked in the room, and got his first clue
to where little Liche weapons all wait in a row.
"These weapons," he grinned, "are the first things to go!"

Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room, and he took every blade present!

Maces of Smiting! Revenants! Wraiths!

Rings of Power! Skeletons! Wands of magic! Oh, so little faith!
He took them all, And he stuffed them in bags.
He even took one ugly old hag.
Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Liche feast!
He took the whipped-drow pudding! He took the mindflayer beast!
He cleaned out that icebox so quick it was tragic.
Why, that cleric even took their last can of Liche-liver-magic!
Then he stuffed all the food out the back door with glee.
"And NOW!" grinned the cleric, "I will stuff up the banshee!"
And the goodie grabbed the spirit, and he started to shove,
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small Liche!
Little Sylvia Liche, who was quite more than a bitch.
The cleric had been caught by a liche, lonely for her daughter,
She thought he had done it, that he'd gone off and bought her.
She stared at the Grinch and said, "Glenyarzu, why,"
"Why take my family? WHY?"
But, you know, that old goodie was so smart and so slick,
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
"Why, my sweet little rot," the fake demon lied,
"The skin is all rotting. She's gone bad on one side."
"So I'm taking her home to my workshop, my dear."
"I'll fix her up there. Then I'll bring her back here."
And his fib fooled the bitch. Then he patted her head,
And he got her a drink and he sent her to bed.
Then the last thing he took was the log for their fire!
Then he went out the door, himself, the old liar.
On their walls he left nothing but hooks and some wire.
And the one speck of food that he left was the pork,
hardly a crumb, not as good as the orc.
Then He did the same thing To the other liche houses
Leaving crumbs Much too small For the other liche louses!
It was quarter past nightfall... All the undead, still a-bed,
All the liches, still asnooze When he packed up his sled,
Packed it up with their weapons! The mummies! Their wrappings!
The staves! And the magic! The Necro-wand- trappings!
"Snitch Snitch to the liche!" he was goodily humming.
"They're finding out now that no battle is coming!"
"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!"
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two,
Then the undead down in Licheville will all cry BooHoo!"
"That's a noise," grinned the cleric, "That I simply MUST hear!"
So he paused. And the cleric put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low. Then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared down at Licheville! The cleric popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Liche down in Licheville, the tall and the small,
Was banging on shields! He hadn't gotten them all!
He HADN'T stopped battle from coming! IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the cleric, with his goodie-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?"
"It came with out wrappings! It came without blades!"
"It came without amulets, armor or staves!"
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the cleric thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe battle," he thought, "doesn't come from a store."
"Maybe battle...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
And what happened then? Well...in Licheville they say,
That he was bitten by a vampire that day!
And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his load through the bright full moon light,
And he brought back their things! And the food for the feast!
And he himself, the cleric, no longer goodie, he carved the mindflayer beast