De La Grande Bibliotheque de Tamriel
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By Hennabear
Sit, dear reader, have a care,
And listen to wise Hennabear.
I'll tell you things of Men and Mer,
And all of them, you'll find, are fair.
First I will of Dunmer speak,
A culture old and quite unique.
Dark-skinned Elves of slight physique,
Their living gods' divine mystique.
Next of Altmer you shall hear,
Noble kin of highest tier.
Their icy words do not endear,
But speak no ill or you'll disappear.
The Redguard is the noble nomad,
In silks you'll often find them clad.
They carry sharp blades just in case,
Fast and skilled, you'll lose this race.
In forests Bosmer like to hide,
From leaf to leaf like birds they glide.
You'll know at once when one has lied,
His lips will move when he's replied.
The burly Orc, slandered and green,
Prone to anger, not very serene.
Below the roughness one can glean
A definite fondness for meaty cuisine.
Khajiit: a large, smart, noble cat,
Skilled in wordplay and mortal combat.
Thieves and pirates to be sure,
But the furred ones are so much more.
But now I see you're growing bored,
Perhaps you'd like to hear of Nords ?
A people not to be ignored,
Forged in winter by axe and sword.
Argonians are lizard men,
Whose swamps contain their den.
Ask a question, then ask again.
What thoughts they have are beyond our ken.
I'll finish with fine Breton tales,
This narrator's racial details.
A people formed from harsh travails,
But hearty still, we yet prevail.
Now, dear reader, you must swear,
When you take these rhymes and share,
To ever credit Hennabear,
For if you don't—he'll come! Beware!"
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