Fifty: It Only Hurts When I Laugh
We walked east, toward the cliff over the river which Azara had warned us about. We skirted the treeline, keeping it on our left. The land continued to be a rocky slope.
“I have a song for you,” Slade said. “I composed it while I was jailed. I was trying to keep up my spirits. I’m not sure I succeeded, though. It was difficult to look on the bright side, down there.”
“What’s its title?” I asked.
“It Only Hurts When I Laugh. You know, I used to dream about singing it once I was out. And now I’m finally here.”
He took a deep breath:
You know, my bed is the floor,
and I’ve got bars on my door,
and I’ve been jailed with riffraff –
it only hurts when I laugh!
I was walking on a peaceful day in Wastemoor,
keeping quiet on a barren wilds stroll-tour,
breathing in all of the dusty rocky grandeur,
--when the Mage’s trusted minions
--acted out all their opinions
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and invited me to take a hooded detour.
And now my view is just rocks,
I stare at jailers and locks.
And I get old mead to quaff.
It only hurts when I laugh!
I guess I’ve personally offended our good Mage-queen
and I’m a prominent transgressor in this cave scene.
--Her long arm reached out and it took me
--and a guard, he gagged and shook me.
She has meted hard reprisal, in her wisdom
and we see the violence ‘herent in the system!
And here I am, counting days,
there’s no way out of her maze.
If I get blazed by her staff,
it only hurts when I laugh!
I’ve tried to talk to all my peers about escaping,
but the stone and bars have left us all just gaping.
Try to dig? ‘Twill be just harmless fruitless scraping.
--And though we try to spruce up
--our humble Wastemoor lockup
I’m afraid that we will get no purple draping!
I feel I’m cooked like a goose,
but if I try to break loose
the guards will tear me in half –
it only hurts when I laugh!
.
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