An Outdoorsman's poem

By Ziage

We are men of Iridine
Who spend their lives in natures green
Gathering timber, Harvesting plants
We chose this over fighting rats

For healers we make wooden splints
for the bone they wish to knit
For warriors we make staves and spears
So that they may destroy our fears

We are men of Iridine
Who spend their lives in natures green
Gathering timber, Harvesting plants
We chose this over fighting rats

Our only way of income
Is cooking by the fire
And the branches we make torches from
The torches you hold dire

We are men of Iridine
Who spend their lives in natures green
We spend our lives in the woods it really is a thrill
We live away from human life by natures will


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