"I'LL EAT WHEN I'M HUNGRY"!
"I'LL DRINK WHEN I'M DRY"!
"IF THE HARD TIMES DON'T KILL ME"!
"I'LL LAY DOWN AND DIE"!
"RED HISKI, RED HISKI, RED HISKI I CRY"!
"IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME RED HISKI, I SURELY WILL DIE"!
Master Go and I sing at the top of our lungs, much to everyone present surprise.
A song from an old cowboy on earth fills the ears of the pale folk and noble children.
The children from the 'outside' can't believe the venerated god has picked up a rata and strums it as he swallows hiski like a drunkard.
The pale folk see Master Go drink daily, sometimes year-round, but they have never heard him sing.
Even the oldest among them has never seen such a sight from the lazy immortal.
Our voices have been ringing for the entirety of the day and well into the night.
One by one I notice some of the males disappear until I realize what is happening.
