If you can't bring Lillith combing

Then at least don't bring her soap

And no rings for Sylvester

When he's got a magic rope

We all must build on Ben's good fortune

With our next young dungeoneer

Whose adventure shan't be hindered

By the posing of Lord Fear

Let's have no early dismissal

In the questing of Sophia

In comes the kid with an "Enter, stranger"

Ride through the realm on a wyrm in the air

Silver bag on a clue room table

As they race from the castle of Knightmare

No more hand paintings of dungeons

Though Mount Fear is David Rowe

There's not a single spell for casting

Magic rings make up for this

One turns children into vast things

And the other's for Hordriss

There is an elf, and when they meet her

Her insults do not endear

But it's backlash for Elita

With a roasting from Sophia

She beat Level One

Though she'd been profane

And rode with Ridolfo

Part of the way

When Hordriss returned

The questioning came

Then more Elita

Who played on the Pipes of Pan

Watch for the blades in the walls

Don't fall

Or you won't confront Lord Fear

Or it's curtains, dungeoneer

Now it's over for Sophia

If you cannot beat the dungeon

Then you might make Pickle mope