The Princess of Stupidia

The Siren of the Slave pit is singing her tune. The workers are entranced by her like a mouse in the paws of a cat. Her song is not sweet nor is it of beautiful words that roll sweetly like the ocean waves. It does not tell tales of far away lands, beautiful maidens or adventures of yore. Instead it charms it's listener by the shear stupendous stupidity of it. Like a numbing blow upon the skull. The mice think they are controling this game, and yet who is in control?