((In a cloth-bound diary, in a guest room of the hall of the Order of the Divine Brew))
His poetry was bright with embroidery,
To woo her and never avoid her, he
But when Midarin was hale,
He blamed all this on ale,
And so Zhigi should marry a brewery!
Such were the lopsided lines I sent in response to the lavish poem concerning the color of my hair, and the supposed quality of my heart, by the tailor, Midarin - who later tried to disavow them, citing alcohol and lord Dwalin as the chief perpetrators instead.
