A wise, olde wizard sat in his chair
Only his familiar liked to be there
A fire in the fireplace popped and crackled
A raven on the mantle mocked and cackled
Potions bubbled, liquids poured
Slimes dripped, mists soared
Moisture on the furniture, overlying dust
Metal utensils had begun to rust
Then over the noises, a knock at the door
One knock only, then nothing more
A voice from beyond, "Master, may I enter
Into your chambers, out of the winter?"
A deep and olde voice, "Yes, come hither."
"Master," said the lad,"answer only this."
"Yes?" said the wizard with a tremulous hiss.
"Master, when I die, how shall I go?"
"Your heart shall be pierced by the point of an arrow."
"A lie!" cried the boy and began away
The wizard called to him to stop and stay
An arrow was pulled and the boy then fell
Without a scream, without a yell
"I told you, boy, how you would die
and you dared tell me twas a lie."
And in the background tolled a bell
With this, the wizard, "Boy ... Farewell."
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