Written by Robear on the way back from the
4th Pennsic War (or the Pennsic Puddle) as
those of us who were there called it. It was
flooding when we arrived and rained 9 inches
in the four days we were there. It is to the tune
of "Sweet Betsy From Pike". Published by
permission of Robear.

Oh have you heard tell of the Fourth Pennsic War,
Where it rained every hour four inches or more?
On Spencer's farm more than four hundred were there,
And we viewed the great deluge with growing dispair.

In the morning both muddy and wet were most beds,
And the weak and the faint-hearted packed up and fled.
Soon none but the brave and the stupid were there,
And each day we combed dozens of frogs from our hair.

Oh the archers were skillful and rarely did miss
And they spent their time mostly by shooting at fish.
They'd kill them and gut them and cut off their tails,
While a man with a siege engine harpooned a whale.

When the mud was three feet deep the fighting begun,
And the lightning made fighting exciting and fun.
To die one risked drowning or worse in the mud,
And the fighters were dressed head to toe in the crud.

Now my sad muddy story has come to an end.
Even as we left, rain never ceased to descend.
Don't go to the Pennsic Wars just on a whim,
Never venture past Atenveldt 'less you can swim.