Ho, harken young spacers, take heed of my tale
No greater curse in space, than the Illjammer's wail.
Like wildspace she comes, and only death she leaves
In revenge her hunter, naught else he believes.
A silent destroyer, phantasm within
A young bride fell, blame laid upon him.
Through night she doth fly, silent swing of the hammer
The shape she doth take, of the mighty Spelljammer
Devouring witch, she flies to the flow
The secrets inside, naught but she know.
To hear her death cry, is fear incarnate
To hear her death cry, ye know 'tis too late.
Constructed in secret, a legend of fear
A legend of death, where she hath been near.
Spy her in the night, and 'jam for your lives
Her fury not stopped, by magic or knives
Whence she came, a true mystery
The corpses she leaves, drained, blistery
Of certain evil, none have foretold
Of recent demon, not in tales of old
He hunts her still now, the Knight of the Crown
His fury and anger, thirst for revenge renown
So hearken young spacers, take heed of her tale
No worse death in space, than the Illjammer's wail
Unknown Bard, The Rock of Bral, Standard Year Of Freedom 2864
