The Land of Tamir

Lady Abigail created this little poem about the mythical land of Tamir in King’s Quest 4.

KING’S QUEST 4’S
“THE LAND OF TAMIR”
BY LADY ABIGAIL

Gather round, children; I’ll tell ye a tale
Of a land where the moon rises bright — and yet pale,
Where the woods keep a unicorn, rather than deer;
‘Tis the marvelous, wonderful land of Tamir.

Come with me now to the land I hold dear;
I’ll show you the ocean; my memory’s clear —
I’ll show ye the meadow, between sea and wood;
I’ll show you the mounts in the swamp’s neighborhood.

Tamir has a balance ‘twixt Evil and Good;
Why, even her forests have differing wood!
A delicate balance hangs ‘tween imp and sprite,
Between ev’ry darkness and every light:

With Good on the left, and Bad on the right
(If you’re facing north, that is) — what a sight!
‘Tis not to be found any elsewhere but here
In the mystical, magical land of Tamir.

The wonderous, magical land of Tamir —
Two fairy-queens know their abode should be here,
And so they make it. One evil, one good,
Both live far ‘yond opposite sides of the wood.

Genesta: perfect example of sweet ladyhood,
She lives on an island; ’tis meet that she should.
A radiant butterfly gave her its wings.
On a fair day, you’ll hear her fine voice as she sings.

To the mountains, a shadow is what Lolotte brings;
Her castle is circled with smoky cloud-rings.
Her voice is a cackle; her skin is bright green;
Her unfortunate victims nowhere to be seen.

They two keep the balance ‘tween Tasteful and Mean:
Lolotte with her terror; Genesta, her sheen.
We all do respect them (though not all take sides —
The frog, for example, who in the pond hides).

Far off to the east, past the stony hillsides,
Grows a magical tree; in the swamp it resides.
This tree has a magical, healing fruit;
Its guard wears a green-yellow scaly suit.

All this can be reached through the mountains’ dark root,
Where there lives a despicable bone-crunching brute.
But enough! I do frighten my audience so!
I believe it is time that to bed they did go!

To sleep, little ones, for the dream-seeds to sow;
Come again on the morrow; I’ll re-weave the tableau
Of that marvelous, wonderful land I hold dear,
The magical, mystical land of Tamir.