"Don't Be Silly."

  The worst mistake made in my youth

  was when I failed to live my truth.

  I, born a bard, with tune and cheer

  gave into shrieking, screaming fear

  and, faced with deadly dragon hell

  tried wizarding for just a spell.

  Of all the ways I've since been cursed,

  the boring wizard's was the worst.

  "Now don't be silly," the earnest mage,

  (unaware this was a curse),

  bade me learn the spells of prose

  and yield up my bardic verse.

  "Don't sing of Gods." The wizard pled, "Some people here could take offense."

  "Don't call it magic, either, bard. It's science here, and common sense."

  "Don't be silly. Do not play. These songs are not the wizard way."

  "Do not toy with stakes so high,"

  His solemn countenance advised.

  "So honor now that sacred trust,"

  his words were old, and sad, and wise.

  "You sally forth and you command

  your life and others in your hand.

  Be serious, and don't go playing

  when you're going dragonslaying."

  I was desperate to survive,

  And so I took him at is word.

  I hid my song that made me thrive

  And tried to be far less absurd.

  What killed me then? I tell you true.

  Not the flaming dragon breath,

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  Not that my party broke and ran

  When faced with certain crispy death.

  The reason that I really died?

  I took the man's advice: and lied.

  I'm serious, I lied and said

  I'll get these spells put in my head

  I need no songs, I lied and thought

  In naked prose as wizards ought.

  I lied away my joy, my mind,

  the tunes, the jokes, the repartee

  The blowing, farting sound effects

  the dancing, prancing revelry,

  I lied away the soaring sounds

  Inviting me to bravery,

  Erasing every bardic tool

  that sticks facts into memory.

  The sort of art that, if you're clever

  Live in mind and soul forever.

  And when I charged the dragon's lair,

  when I made that fateful run,

  of all my hard-earned wizard spells

  remembered not a single one.

  Of all the ways the I've since been cursed,

  'Don't be silly,' is still the worst.

  My life is over, yes it's true

  and then a spell bade me to rise.

  The caster didn't last so long,

  much to his (very brief) surprise

  Yes it's hellish, it's the worst,

  My afterlife has just begun,

  I live a death absurdly cursed

  in every aspect except one.

  I'm silly now. I dance. I play.

  I honor bardic rule one.

  When this dead bard goes dragonslaying?

  This time, I swear. I'm making *fun.*