Daric

Daric: "Mead, mead, mead!
I drink it morning, noon, and eve.
I like it spiced and sweet and powerful!
I'll soon be rung, and that's quite laudable!" Alma: "Wait, that's not how it goes! It's "probable," not "laudable."" Daric: "What? That doesn't even make sense! What's probable? That I'm going to get drunk? That's a given fact!" Alma: "Now I'm confused. I think I need more mead." Bellin: "But getting drunk isn't laudable. You should be able to hold your mead a lot better than that." Daric: "Shut up, Bellin. Now my head hurts. I don't like this song anymore. Let's sing something else."