Not much.

Gunther of Springdaleto Everyone

Tis a curse of horniess upon the land,

Tis only a curse if you're alone with your hand,

I hear that immunity is in the women of Thak,

Although they spend hours flat on their back.

Perhaps a cure is some men with some fire,

Ingens says he has it, but we know he's a liar,

Those women of dark hearts need lovin all night,

Maybe with a Springdalian, they would not put up a fight.

Think about it lads, why bother I say,

It's here with good women, I say we all stay,

The Thaks to one side and Parrius the other,

From what I am told, they all sleep with their mother.

From Gunther...a bad poet with a caffiene level equal to his IQ. No offense intended but hopefully taken.

Written by my hand on the 26th of Midwinter, in the year 971.