Earth Calling Brunnhilde.
For my next trick I'll turn this poppy into a sword.
I love her, I love her not, I love her, I love her not,...
Dragon slaying is fine, but one must remember to stop and smell the roses...
Dang, this thing smells like dead giant.
The gloves? I'm allergic to poppies.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not .....Oh rats, THAT IS NOT A MAN!
And for my next aria, I shall sing "Poveri Fiori" from Adriana Lecouvreur
Maybe if I hide a mike in this flower, people will stop griping about my weak voice.
Your thorns don't scare me, little rose. I've got my super-duper, heavy-duty smithing gloves on.
"La fleur que tu m'avais jetee.."
Maybe if Brunnhilde will accept this instead of a ring, I can skip the dragon-slaying part.
A little bird told me there's an invisible wurm inside this rose.
Roses are red,Dragons' hearts are robust, But when I reforge Nothung, Fafner's biting the dust.
Thou blind fool love, what dost thou to mine eyes,That they behold, and see not what they see?
This'll go nicely in the small vase on the dashboard of my Volkswagen Beetle
After much hammering--Nothung, an aesthetic miniature.
"Lollipop, lollipop, O lolly, lolly . . ."
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