We were a genial crew who met to trade
Our not-uncoloured cards. With boyish zeal
We joyed to show our knowledge intricate
Of Primeape, and of bulbous Ivysaur.
Yet through our play, insensibly we learned
Commercial virtue. Trade was tough yet fair;
Therefore delight combined with usefulness,
And social skills with pleasure intertwined.
Yet one there was amongst us, from a home
Of honest worth, but quite unblessed by wealth,
Who coveted the cards he could not own,
And most for Ponyta his longing grew.
In desperation he would offer us
His one Charmeleon for swaps. We laughed
The carefree laugh of blessed childhood glee
For of Charmander's son we'd cards to spare.
Alas, the urchin's passion grew intense;
He grabbed a fellow's pack, and ran away
To hide among the groves of Borrowdale
And gloat upon his gains in secret joy.
Yet soon must happiness have turned to shame,
And fear of retribution from hard boots.
Oh rightly so! We found him in the hour,
And knocked his teeth in, and took all his cards,
And threw him headfirst in Lake Windermere.