A/N: For some odd reason I can't use spaces between stanzas in poetry on this site. Any clues on how to stop this from happening are very welcome. But this mainly goes in four line phrases, and in some places it's one of two. I'll leave it up for you to figure out. XD

---

A trumpet call,

Rounds the chores up after noon.

We all stampede down the forest hall,

To go to the Celebration under the moon!

Years and centuries have gone,

Since the last time we met.

Now we have very outdone,

Ourselves with this Celebration and fret,

With the streamers a’ hangin’,

Under the trees a’ loomin’,

Above the river a’ crawlin’,

And beside the stair a’ reachin’,

To the stars, yea yea,

And callin’ the phrase, So we saya:

All knell, ell, ell!

All shout yea, ea, ea!

All call to the fell, ell, ell!

All pray to the Ria, ia, ia!

For the Celebration!

The trees have long since grown,

But the twilit light still looms.

The children still do moan,

While the white blossom blooms.

I call your name atop,

My pet, my companion loyal.

As I walk down the stone drop,

I can’t help to think that I will spoil,

This wonderful evening when I,

Take you to the riverside,

And tell you with a sigh,

The truth beside,

What you have heard in whispers,

About this glorious and frivolous night.

I feel I will fly away in a cloud of feathers,

With you to avoid this fright, and

Escape into the air,

To ride the clouds without wear.

Singing and cheering, entwined in your hair,

Whilst traveling away from that macabre fair,

To the stars, yea, yea,

And callin’ the phrase, So we saya:

All knell, ell, ell!

All shout yea, ea, ea!

All call to the fell, ell, ell!

And pray to Ria, ia, ia!

For the Celebration!

The people are clouded,

With the thought that,

This party, this fiesta, is not shrouded,

In a veil that, like a cat,

Will hide in the bushes to await,

The right moment to steal,

Its catch, its bait,

And devour its meal.

You are the mouse,

The food for a feline.

Oh, however will I stop it to house,

You and put you into decline?

Such a dreadful ritual,

That I must somehow avoid.

Must I duel,

The enemy that is emotion devoid?

How do I stop death?

How do I save your last breath?

The lights gleam,

Bright red, and the villagers,

Look at you and beam,

With the hungry eyes of pillagers.

I cry out to grab,

You before you’re gone forever.

But you scream as they stab,

Out your every tear and quiver.

I struggle and weep, for your worth,

Is much more important, and my girth,

No matter how small, does not equal your forgotten birth.

I shake over your dead body without mirth, while they call,

To the stars, yea, yea,

And callin’ the phrase, So we saya:

All knell, ell, ell,

All shout yea, ea, ea,

All call to the fell, ell, ell,

And pray to Ria, ia, ia!

For the Celebration!

---

Yes, this is a song if you haven't figured it out. I'll probably use it in a story at some point.