Chapter 5 — Page 17
Any king worth his salt has a desk drawer full of bad poetry.
↓ Transcript
PANEL ONE: Finvarra stands up, raising his goblet. Oonagh laughs. Scotty grovels.
FINVARRA: All right, Scotty. You’ll have your protection. Someone get me that cauldron!
OONAGH: Oh, Finn. You’re so dramatic!
PANEL 2: Fetch watches wide-eyed, Owen and Pooka are confused.
FINVARRA: O soldiers past slain on fields of battle,
Hark unto me as you had death’s rattle:
The siren of glory and honor calls again
To take up the sword against evil men.
Rise! Rise! Rise from your graves!
March! March! March like ocean waves
Pound rock and stone to sand!
With sword and spear in your hand
Bring an end to those who’d steer
Our realm to anarchy and fear!
PANEL 3: Oonagh smiles warmly at Finvarra, who blushes.
OONAGH: Oh, lovely! Did you write that?
FINVARRA: Well, I like to dabble now and then….
FINVARRA: All right, Scotty. You’ll have your protection. Someone get me that cauldron!
OONAGH: Oh, Finn. You’re so dramatic!
PANEL 2: Fetch watches wide-eyed, Owen and Pooka are confused.
FINVARRA: O soldiers past slain on fields of battle,
Hark unto me as you had death’s rattle:
The siren of glory and honor calls again
To take up the sword against evil men.
Rise! Rise! Rise from your graves!
March! March! March like ocean waves
Pound rock and stone to sand!
With sword and spear in your hand
Bring an end to those who’d steer
Our realm to anarchy and fear!
PANEL 3: Oonagh smiles warmly at Finvarra, who blushes.
OONAGH: Oh, lovely! Did you write that?
FINVARRA: Well, I like to dabble now and then….
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