Drunken, and in good spirits, a rougish fellow steps to stage in the Hangman's Pub, in Waterdeep...
looking back to his friends at his table with a twinkle in his eye and raising his voice loud... for the whole pub to hear...
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E'er I've roamed,
the hills of long stride,
an' far o'er cold mountains,
to the plains stretching wide.
Through the thickenin' wood,
an' the swamplands so gray,
all o'er Toril,
I roam where I may...
From the halls made of silver,
dressed full by the moon,
to the dale of longshadows,
an' rich Calimport's boon.
From the island of the elves,
an' the dwarves mithral hold,
the Gate, an' cruel Luskan,
near the rivers of gold...
E'er I journey,
an' where 'er I roam,
no place has so held me,
like this city, our home...
For the Deep be a lady,
both splendid an' grand,
where the cruel set to plotting,
an' the bold make a stand.
The Adventurer's Quarter,
the Castle Ward's stocks,
Virgin's Square, the fair Market,
an' my favorite, the Docks...
The women so lovely,
the men a fine cut,
those common, walk proudly,
whilst' the noblefolk strut.
It's a place where your fortune,
be yours for the take,
where hopes can soar high,
an' hearts oft' can break.
So ask me my friends,
what the other town's lack,
an' three words I'll 'er answer...
Finn, the Black.
*************************************
...the Pub bursts into laughter and cheers, hooting and hollering... more than one fight breaks out and the bar is overcome with joyous mirth...
and the young rougue returns to his table, stumbling the whole way and smiling fiercely.

