I’m measured not by size but sway, I steal the night, I end the day. Kings bow low when I appear, But I myself am never near.

I boasted great skill and dared a goddess to a weave. My skill shamed the gods, but my hubris brought blight. For now I’m condemned to spin, not cloth but thread, With many legs where once I tread, thus I weave my penance instead.

I don’t need sleeves to make a scene, I simply flip and change my sheen. I promise warmth, then sell you cold; my loyalty’s already sold.

Arr, a tune that stirs the breeze, where salty tales meet the seas. Echoes from the sailor's chest, a hearty song that ne'er lets ye rest!

I ruled the land, the sky, and water, My history was a glorious chapter, My reign was long, a world of terror, now remains kins with feathers.