Lore of Ymir the Shaky

King of grasses, ruler of the plain,
I wandered through Elysian fields until
my bones grew old and achy in the rain.
Tired, I trembled. Lagged behind. A hill
all glowing in the mist beckoned me toward—
I left the herd and wandered. Topped its brow
and saw a wizard brandishing a sword
and staff. He scratched his head and uttered: “How
the heck did you get here? I thought you were
a gryphon, manticore. But here instead,
a busted-up old pony. I was sure
I did the spell correctly!” So, I said
“Shaky I may be, but, as bards once sung,
no wealth compares to kind and civil tongue!”

Entered by: 0x3e17…7e9e and preserved on chain (see transaction)