I once knew a man, he lived on Drewey Lane. He woke to the pale moonlight to craft the daily bread. Working tirelessly to feed the beasts in his hall. They walked through till the sun set. The man was tired, people complained his food wasn't good enough, that they could do it better themselves. So one day the man picked up his pin, filled it with the nails he had meant to fix the roof with, and walked in to town as the moon rose. The people knew not what it cost to make bread, but soon they would learn with their own heads.