Tale of the Ironmonger - A poem

There once was an ironmonger from ImDeity Lands,
He made tools and weapons that were used with your hands.
One day a thief from the guild of the old,
Came in the shop and stole all of his gold.
Angry at the event, he chased this man,
Chased him everywhere, he just ran and ran.
One day he found the man's evil lair,
So he perked up his mind and swished back his hair.
Entering the cave, he stumbled on a weapon,
It was shiny, made of diamonds and leather,
He took this sword and carried on,
Only to find that his man had gone.
Just as he was about to leave,
He found a crack in the wall, would you believe.
Through this crack he saw a cult,
Summoning demons with blood, bones and salt.
He charged in, slashing as he went,
As only the man was left, he realised his sword had bent.
Both unarmed, they began to fight,
With no weapons they were forced to punch, pinch and bite.
The ironmonger won the ferocious war,
And returned home with his gold and more!
The morale of the story is: hide your gold,
Unless you want to be left out fighting in the cold.

(Story by gigahappytown, 2nd place in April's "Imdeity's Scribbling Wars" 2012)

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