King Stephen told them that road to hell was paved with adverbs, but they paid him no mind. They paid him no mind, for these were folks who shared a day of joy together joyously. The adverbs they crunched beneath their feet were made powder by the weight of their indifference. Lazy language had never bothered them, and they swallowed sentiment without a chaser; schmaltz was not a bitter pill for them.
A bitter pilsner maybe.
No, this sextet marched down the road from sand to snow with smiles on their faces and songs spilling forth from their souls. With a new hope to guide them, blissfully unaware of the empire about to strike back at their linguistic rebellion, they celebrated a day of peace, a day that brought the promise that one day they would be free.
And so, the tallest of them cloaked in red, they sang a song that knocked us dead. In the shadow of the tree, a beautiful nightmare for you…