Four score and many more years ago

Before I met ya'll

On a hot summer night

When the moon shone bright

A catfish came to call.

I was drinking up the moonlight

O'er the wood so dark and serene

I'd had a brew

(Or maybe a few)

And was enjoying the lovely scene.

I nodded off for just a moment

I never did fall asleep

When what should I spy

With my little eye

But a creature from the deep.

Majestic if ungainly

A catfish ambled down the street

Whiskers a-bobbing

Tail a-flopping

With fins it used as feet (fins to feet!)

It had in its grasp a frying pan

Of terrible weight and size

The catfish stopped and stared at me

Eyes all wobbly and googly

It watched me like a prize.

I could hear the heavy sound of its breath

Like a very devil from hell

Its fishy brains churned

As the hour turned

What it was thinking, I couldn't tell.

A terrible fear washed over me

And to the church I ran

"Father, let me!" I cried, "For a horror I have seen!"

"Tis a fish that walks just like a man, and it came out of the green!"

In a tiny voice, the priest replied...

"Did it have a frying pan?"

How could I have ignored that formidable pan?

As strange as it seemed to me

What use did a catfish have for cooking?

I almost considered once again looking

But the priest said, "Ah, I see."

"Tell me, father," I begged of him

"Since you are you are so wise

From whence came this terrible man-o-fish

Wielding that cast-iron dish

With murder in its eyes?"

"Tis a sad tale that I must tell you now," the priest replied

In light of what you've seen

Tis not a fish, and not a girl

(And oh, my brain – how it did whirl!)

But something in-between."

There once lived a halfling called Billie

Who came from a swampy mire

Her tiny heart was filled with greed

She took things that she didn't need

And liked to play with fire.

But alas, that wicked little beast

Her greedy heart was also soft as down

With a lovely bard she shared some faerie weed

In love she fell, with startling speed

And together they left town.

With a trio of companions,

Billie and her bard braved the white stone road

But they broke the rules which govern the Wood

Which as you know, isn't good

And like the river, into trouble they flowed.

All the adventures they had I cannot relate

For the tale would wear on till dawn

Suffice to say

They usually got their way

And somehow carried on.

One night to a great dark pool they came

Something sparkled in the deep

The adventurers all gathered round, and Billie eyed the prize

The treasure, it was guarded... by a Catfish of unusual size

With a rope and hook they tried to fetch

The marvels deep below.

But alas, such fishing skill they did not have (The DM told them so)

So Billie opened up her pack

And took out a tempting thing.

With every last bit of her breakfast

She seduced the Catfish king.

The lord of all the Catfish

Brought them treasures from below

Armor, jewels and weapons

From many dead adventurers (no surprise, I know).

Awed by this generosity

Billie did change her theology

And cast aside her favorite Gods

For a cloak of gray with ropey whiskers, and eyes all a-googly.

A maze of traps and secrets lay

Beneath the Sickle Wood

A great deal of mischief was being made

And none of it for good.

To save their lives they fled

Against terrible odds, they fought and bled

And to the Great Council were brought.

The balance of the Sickle Wood had been torn asunder

Both Green and Shadow Courts swore

The old laws of the Wood had been thwarted

And would not work any more.

A new power, alas, had risen

And was quickly growing in fame

Heeding none, and feared by all.

The Cult of the Catfish was its name.

And so, the Adventurers became Lords

Of the great forest in its vastness.

"Cibus Aurum Insanium" was their motto

Food, loot, and madness.

Even still, the five do reign

Over goblins, fiends and fae

Cooking breakfast, feeding catfish

And causing mischief to this day.

That was the last anyone saw of poor Billie

Some say she went north and west

But on a summer night

When the stars shine bright

A brave soul might undertake this test.

Turn widdershins three times around

Now, if you have the mind to look

With your little eye

You might just spy

A catfish with a frying pan

Hunting for breakfast to cook.