A long time ago,
in a land far away,
the Guiding Hand guild,
looked for new ways to play.

Some liked it hot,
and some like it cold,
but none of them liked,
someone who was bold.

They searched and they searched,
both up high and down low,
but couldn't be nice,
to their tribes all aglow.

They said to themselves,
this one's lazy and fat!
Let's send him away!
Or feed him to a cat!

They made poison stews,
and made potions explode!
They tried with their hearts,
to make villagers old.

Their tribes had no choice,
but to follow along.
They did what they could,
but sang a sad song.

Then out of the blue,
a storm cloud appeared.
The wind made a howl,
and the sun disappeared!

The guilds men did tremble,
and bowed down their heads.
ROM had shown up
and filled them with dread!

"I AM THE GREAT ROM!
NOW LISTEN TO ME!
BE NICE TO YOUR TRIBES,
OR FROM ISOLA FLEE!"