Oh, gather 'round, my friends, and lend an ear,
For I’ll sing you a tale of a Khajiit so queer.
His name was M’Iska, with fur like moonlight,
And a penchant for mischief, both day and night.
He’d dance on the rooftops, twirl in the rain,
With a sweetroll in one hand and a skooma-stained brain.
His tail would flicker, his whiskers would twitch,
As he sang silly songs to the moons out of pitch.
“Oh, M’Iska,” they’d say, “you’re a fool, it’s true,
But your antics bring laughter to all that you do.”
He’d juggle cheese wheels and balance on logs,
While the guards chased him down, shouting, “Khajiit, you dog!”
[Musical Interlude]
His pockets were filled with shiny pebbles and such,
And he’d challenge the dragons to a game of hopscotch.
“Yol Toor Shul!” he’d cry, leaping through the flames,
Cheerfully dancing into the night with his tail a-blaze.