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| You can't shoot at the sun, for it simply won't do, |
| It doesn't exist, just a trick of the view. |
| But seven small gnomes in a balloon softly glow, |
| Piloting high where the warm breezes blow. |
| Be kind to these gnomes, let them journey around, |
| Don't aim your arrows, don't shoot them down. |
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| And speaking of moons, let's not be remiss, |
| For Krynn's three are made of cheese! Oh what bliss! |
| Why do the towers keep all for their feast, |
| Hoarding the magic, the celestial cheese? |
| Shouldn't we share in this gift from the night, |
| And let every soul taste that heavenly bite? |
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| Commissioned by by the Cosmological Donut Centrist Society |
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