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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sabaron" data-source="post: 260218" data-attributes="member: 285">Eilan seems a bit annoyed with the way this match is going.  He takes a swig from a bottle he keeps in his pot and begins to sing:"LARK IN THE MORNINGThe lark in the morning she arises from her nestAnd she ascends all in the air with the dew upon her breastAnd with the pretty ploughboy she'll whistle and she'll singAnd at night she'll return to her own nest againWhen his day's work is over, oh what then will he doPerhaps then into some country wake he'll goAnd with his pretty sweetheart, he'll dance and he'll singAnd at night he'll return with his love back againAnd as they returned from the wake unto the townThe meadows they are mowed and the grass it is cut downThe nightingale she whistles upon the hawthorn sprayAnd the moon it is a shining upon the new mown hayGood luck unto the ploughboys wherever they may beThey will take a winsome lass for to sit upon their kneeAnd with a jug of beer boys, they'll whistle and they'll singAnd the ploughboy is as happy as a prince or a king"After he finishes the song, he drops off the edge of the pot and gasps for air.The staff sings with the island as it drops before the Yang River Bridge; swims through the speed of the wind!</blockquote>