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       #Post#: 128--------------------------------------------------
       What Makes The Warlus Smile
   DIR By: High Captain Song
       Date: July 28, 2023, 8:09 pm
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       -- Within the Market Square, a crossroads for all the main
       avenues of the Caravanserai --
       It is not unheard of for the Skald of Kassau to tutor other
       Singers in the art of their caste. It is, however, a rare thing
       outside of the Caste meets at the various fairs, where Master
       Skalds and Singers are expected to lend an ear to those less
       skilled and offer advice on how they might improve. Presuming
       they might improve.
       He is engaged in such instruction now, but shaking his head at
       one particularly slow-witted but handsome lad for whom innuendo
       is his preferred method of entering a Free Woman's boudoir while
       her Mate is away.
       "No, no, no. You pause BEFORE you say "stunt." Because then
       people will think you are going to say.... something rude. And
       they will laugh when you do not! We play on their expectations
       to make them laugh, for the unexpected is what often times makes
       people laugh."
       So it has come to this. Explaining the concept of jokes to a man
       with no sense of humor.
       I unshoulder my cittern and tune the instrument, seeing a dull
       expression in the apprentice bard's eyes that, were it a
       whetstone, might immediately blunt any blade pressed against it
       and run it for all time. "Perhaps if I were to give an example
       of the sort of song where timing is everything? Hopefully you
       might all learn something form this. If only about anatomy."
       I start strumming out a lively tune for the better part of an
       ehn. A small crowd gathers and the other bards helpfully begin
       to clap out a beat and get the people going along with it before
       I begin to sing.
       Strange things have been done
       By the midnight sun,
       And the story books are full.
       But the strangest tale
       Concerns the male
       Magnificent walrus bull.
       I know it’s rude.
       Quite common and crude.
       Perhaps even grossly unkind.
       But at first glance, at least,
       This ponderous beast
       Is as ugly in front as behind!
       Wouldn’t you like to know?
       Wouldn’t you like to know?
       Wouldn’t you like to know
       What makes the Walrus smile?
       The crowd and the bards seem a little confused as to where this
       song is going, save for some passing Torvaldsmen, who have heard
       this tune before and are enjoying it immensely.
       Look once again.
       Take a second look, then,
       You’ll see he’s not ugly or vile.
       There’s a hint of a grin
       On his blubbery chin.
       And his eyes have a sly secret smile.
       How can this be?
       This clandestine glee?
       That exudes from the walrus like music?
       For he knows deep inside,
       Beneath blubber and hide,
       Is a splendid contrivance, the Oosik.
       Oh, Wouldn’t you like to know?
       Wouldn’t you like to know?
       Wouldn’t you like to know
       What makes the Walrus smile?
       An Oosik, you say?
       And as quite well you may.
       I’ll explain if you keep it between us.
       In simplest truth
       (Though rather uncouth)
       The oosik’s the bone of his penis.
       Now the size alone,
       Of this walrus bone
       Is enough to inspire envious thinking.
       But it’s also a fact,
       Documented and backed,
       That there is no softening or shrinking.
       Oh, Wouldn’t you like to know?
       Wouldn’t you like to know?
       Wouldn’t you like to know
       What makes the Walrus smile?
       These lyrics bring understanding and much laughter from the
       Northmen, who know of the walrus and the folk remedy that the
       ground up oosik might act as a cure for impotence. Not that
       there is any truth to the folk remedy or that any of them ever
       had need of such a potion. No, no, no.
       I lean over conspiratorially for the next verse, as I strum the
       cittern, glancing around as I sing as if revealing a great
       secret.
       This bit is why,
       The smile is so sly,
       And the walrus is rightfully proud.
       For no matter how frigid,
       He always stays rigid.
       (Gods, why was Man not so endowed?)
       That gets a bit of laughter and cheers, especially from the
       wanton slavegirls. I do stop playing to hold up a hand in the
       traditional signal for silence before I continue.
       Added to this
       Is a smile you might miss.
       And the bull is entitled to bow.
       The one to outsmile
       The bull by a mile?
       The freshly serviced walrus cow!
       There is much slapping and shoulders and feminine giggling from
       the wanton slavegirls (though this is redundant) enjoying the
       show. I take my bows and gather up the coins that are thrown,
       though I had not intended for this to be a paid performance.
       "I hope you lads have profited from this instruction as much as
       I have. And now if you'll excuse me, I have a voyage to prepare
       for."
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