How strange your trees must’ve looked to him
A soldier born and bred on sun-baked dirt
And yet he gave his life to keep your people free
And lies alone beneath your loamy fields.
Spa’Labs would be naught but for you,
Around their necks hang Julian’s greatest fruit
A silver box that breaks the curse of the Walking Dead
The heart, The Song of the Tinker’s Damn.
Songs and Stories from A Filker’s Companion to Bedina’s War