Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the invisible man, Claude Reigns! Hello! Andrew Skerharts from Anstiara! Bonjour. Bonjour Mapev, Andre de Somnichelle. Called Andrew Skerharts. By the Anstioren Kings, my serve. Many years ago, hundreds of years ago, a trigger door came through our village in Somnichelle. And he sang a song for us, when he sang, but the one that stayed in my family is called Sifuth on My. I could sing it to you in the 12th century French, but it sounds more like some strange Latin. So I'll sing it to you in Translapche. It wasn't me. In a really manly, when skies are gay, and green the plains are mountain. At break of date, I rose to play beside a little fountain. In garden close to the shallown the rose, I heard a fatal wave, then up and some night, the charm of my sight was dancing with the maiden. But there of face they turned with grace to tread their may-time mansion. To the flowering place, their close embrace, their kisses brought in pleasure. Then shortly they had stole away, to stroll among the boughs, to ease their heart, each blade is far, in love schemes on the flowers. I slid ahead or filled with dread, less someone there should see me. In Houston sad, because I had no joy in love to please me. Then one of those I'd seen their rose, and from afar I've speaking, he questioned me who I might be, and what I came there seeking. I stared their way to sadly say, how long I'd loved a lady, who all my days my heart obeyed for faithfully and steady. No still I bore a griefs assore in losing one so lovely, a shoelie I would come to die, unless she daint to love me. With wisdom rare, with tactful air, they counseled and relieved me. They said their prayer was God my spare, some joy in love that freed me. Where all my gain was lost in pain, so I internextended my thanks and suit, with many a tear, and them to God commandeer. Thank you.