"One was about snapping a bard's lute. Fight and alight." No prizes for guessing the tone of the rhyme but listen to the Dragonborn Comes or Ragnar the Red every time you stop to look for work, find yourself sorely tempted to nudge Cicero in the direction of the bard to put a stop to it once and for all. No one misses out on any entertainment that way. "Red and black striped. The toes of his boots curled up. You're one to talk - I could spy you halfway across the plains and put an arrow through your eye with hair like that catching the sun."

Assuming there aren't mudcrabs or skeevers or giants or mammoths or whatever else roams the plains feeling feisty that day.