This song is mentioned in the story about her, and now here is the song itself.
Come hear now the story of good Master Three-Inch
Giver of pleasures no woman hath felt
A man who we know has never been pained by the pinch
Of trousers pulled up too high by your belt!
One day to a temple went good Master Three-Inch
A-seeking a lady of Calistria’s flock
He’d heard they were randy and it would be a cinch
To find one with which he could have a good …talk.
He found there one lady whose faith was enduring
As was her patience with the lies that he told
He acted as if he was truly believing
That her in’trest was in more than an off’ring of gold
Finally he gave up the gift to the temple
And she led him to her room for to help him in worship
She stripped of her robe and he stared at her bosom, crying
“Abadar’s coins, those are not elven tits!”
“I came to this temple to lay with an elf-girl
I thought that your ears might have just been short!
Your hips and your tits tell me you’re human!
I could lay such as you anywhere in the port!”
While she’d removed her robe, he’d let fall his trousers
Revealing to her his own manly pride
With an eye that was discerning and practiced she told him,
“Not with that little thing twixt your legs that I’ve spied.”
“Indeed,” she continued, her smile getting wider
“With one like that I admit my surprise
How do you show yourself in a bath-house
Or the cheapest of brothels with such a short …rise?”
Well, that brought a rage to the eye of the merchant
He raised up his hand to show her his wrath
But he was not watching the way he was stepping
Tripped on his pants and went headfirst on her bath.
When he awoke, his head was a-pounding
His trousers were on, if perhaps wrong-way round
He never did notice, all he saw was the note
Laying beside him, with his pouch, on the ground.
“Your worship’s not wanted, your coin is rejected,
Be glad we left you some of your dignity
Return at your peril, speak ill at your danger,
Be thankful for such a small sting of a bee.”
He picked up his pouch and left there the letter
And hauled himself off to a tavern to drink
While deep in his cups (of which there were many)
He ignored the warning and ne’er stopped to think
He told the story – ignoring the parts
Where he insulted the lady and embarrassed himself
Just telling how he was cheated by the Temple of Calistira
For giving him a human instead of a fine lady elf.
He spoke the name of the girl he had seen
And described her in the most unflattering ways
The bruise on his forehead, he defiantly claimed
Came when he demanded a refund for the lays
Word of the story ran back to the temple
The lady in question gave a smile quite mean
“He’ll find out, my friends, what a mistake he’s made
I’ll show him Calistria’s revenge can be keen.”
And she wrote the tale of good Master Three-Inch
(So called as his penis was three inches long)
She wrote in the name of Calistrian vengeance
And a bard’s vengeance is ever best done in song.
So remember the tale of rude Master Three-Inch
Learn well the lesson he never will:
Inspiring vengeance will come back to you
But no one e’er said that vengeance must kill.
Calistria is the goddess of Trickery, Lust and Revenge. The man who this song was written about was once seen enjoying it at its first public performance, before realizing it was about him, thus fulfilling all three of her domains: it happened when he was trying to satisfy his lust, it was written for revenge, and he was tricked into appreciating it first.
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