In the land of merriment and ale,
There lived a drunkard, Oldrich, so hale.
From Ferdok Pale to Premian Fire,
He’d guzzle drinks, his heart’s desire.
But fate had a twist, a tale to unveil.
One night, as Oldrich stumbled home,
Through moonlit woods, he roamed alone.
A rustle in the trees, a shadow so strange,
A black Death Squirrel, with a horn, arranged.
Its gaze pierced his soul, chilled to the bone.
Oldrich stood frozen, in awe and dread,
As the squirrel approached with measured tread.
Its eyes gleamed with an otherworldly glow,
A messenger of fate, he came to know.
The drunken revelry, it must be shed.
The squirrel spoke in whispers, a solemn decree,
”Oldrich, your path is not what it should be.
The spirits you drown, the life you forsake,
In this moment, a decision you must make.
To leave the bottle and set your spirit free.”
With a heavy heart, Oldrich understood,
The squirrel’s message, both wise and good.
He vowed to change, to embrace the light,
To bid farewell to the drunken night.
No more would he drown in the ale’s flood.
From that day forth, Oldrich walked anew,
With a spirit renewed, and purpose true.
No longer captive to the bottle’s hold,
He found strength within, a story to be told.
A tale of redemption, where dreams once flew.
So raise a glass, in honor and cheer,
To Oldrich, who conquered his inner fear.
With the squirrel’s wisdom, he found his way,
From drunken haze to a brighter day.
A ballad of transformation, crystal clear.