My days on Valhalla are spent in an effort
to strengthen my flow'ry repute.
I roam every day and adventure for hours
While gathering gallons of garden fresh flowers
(At least those I can with my limited powers)
And where I leave, pass out my loot.

Now most of my blossoms are easily come by--
just sneak past the wolf and take all.
I speak of white daisies, blue violets, carnations
And irises (purple and pink colorations)
Which multiply swiftly with few complications,
Except when my basket's too small.

But lilies and roses are harder to capture--
I lose lots of blood each attempt.
The vendor of flowers clings close to her lily.
In order to get it, I must knock her silly.
And roses have thorns which to my mind are really
A pain 'cause they make me unkempt.

It's truly amazing to number the flowers
amassed by the end of each day:
Carnations and daisies and lilies and roses
And violets and iris to refresh our noses,
But who would expect all the problems it poses
When it's time to give them away?

For strangely, it seems, there are those on Valhalla
who flee when they see my intent.
Like Taloy and Senji and Toadwart and others
(Those flower-rejecting, "Eek! Run away!" brothers
Who'd prob'ly turn down fresh bouquets from their mothers)
And I know they'll never relent.

But no one escapes from the flowers I offer
so hiding will do you no good.
Nor screeching, nor screaming, nor running away, for
At some point each one of you comes through that pub door.
Or maybe you'll find me outside of the main store
And "de-flower" me like you should.