A Wordsworthian Profession Dilemma
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
(Serpent), scared of facing PVP grief,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of waving Green Tea Leaf,
Beside the lakes in Pandaria,
As I fought the Hozen and resisted Sha.
Continuous as the stars that shine
In Pandaland but high above,
They stretched before me, oh so fine,
A herbalist would fall in love:
As a skinning alchemist what to do?
To Sha Touched Leather say toodle-oo?
The bears and cats made “skin me” motions,
But the herbs promised more
In alchemy potions,
But as I gazed—and gazed—I very much thought
Of the gold and wealth old skinning had brought:
For when before the screen I sit
And watch my character I must admit,
My eyes seek out the icon of mail,
My skinning auctions never fail.
This is the bliss of the skinning profession;
And so then my heart is pleasure fed,
With thoughts of animals all quite dead.