There I was on ye olde bridge of iron
Farming scales for ye convent of dragon
When from the white sign a man doth appear
Donning the armor only tryhards would wear
And grasped in his wrist was a familiar sight
That damn'd crossbow that'd ended many a fight
And this man had not one, but two of those thing
Alas, I knew what outcome fighting would bring
So I drew myself close and I paused for a bit
Then my torso fell forward in a bow most exquisite
He pondered a moment and then to my glee
This man in full Havelyns bowed back to me
Alas, I was not quite so kind in return
For as he finished he quite felt a burn
I'd launched my forbidden sun right in his face
He staggered a moment and then left posthaste
And the only momento I have of our meeting
Is a message he sent me in a manner most fleeting
He accused me of foul play, he called me a scum
Then he said dastardly things about my poor mum
But I don't give a farthing about his flib or his flub
I'd do the same thing to any Havelyn scrub