-|===|- Ysadri grins at Arellion as she sings -|===|-
With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal
In silence dread, our cautious way we feel.
No sound at all, we never speak a word,
A flys foot-fall. would be distinctly heard
We are the ebons black!
No we're not the crimsons
We hear they smoke some jimson
We loot, pillage and sack,
And we never feel a lack!
Softly we creep, out of your line of sight
Then we will leap, down from a deadly height
Much too late, you are in our grasp
Sealing your fate, suddenly you gasp
Yes, we are the ebons!
Really, really sneaky
At you we will peeky
Our pockets are full of gold
And it never does get old!
Ysadri says, "I swiped the first verse wholesale, but it seemed appropriate,
given the subject matter."