The following is more of an advertising song than a market chant sung by the singers amongst the Black Butterfly Rovers... primarily to children.The Rovers send their musicians and singers out to towns, encouraging people, especially children, to come and watch their show...

Hey, there! Hoop-la! The Rovers are in town!
Have you seen the actors? Have you seen the clown?
Have you seen the dancers leap without a single care?
Have you seen the gymnasts balance high up in the air?
Have you seen the juggler toss knives both up and down?
Hoop-la! Hoop-la! the Rovers are in town!

Hey, there! Hoop-la! We're the Rovers troupe!
Hear musicians and singers performing in a group.
See the half-tamed ogre with the green and orange fan,
The beardless dwarven maiden and the half-orc half-man.
See the friendly elf shooting targets through a hoop.
Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! We're the Rovers troupe!
 

And then there's the version sung by those who are not as happy to see the Black Butterfly Rovers:
 

Danger! Danger! the Rovers are in town!
Have you seen my money pouch that I just put down?
Have you seen my amulet, my pendant or my ring?
Have you seen the troubles, that the Rovers with them bring?
Have you seen anything that was not nailed down?
Danger! Danger! the Rovers are in town!

On an early morning, were one to perchance a stroll by the markets as the stalls begin to form and the marketeers prepare for their day ahead it is more than likely that this tune be heard. A simple stallholder may be quietly singing this tune to themself, or a child running by the road humming its tune.

A san 'ull buy its holder bread,
A loaf that helps ta keep you fed.

A su can get spiced cakes ta eat,
Sweet n' hot, a tasty treat.

An erg in hand's a block of cheese,
With scent that's carried on th' breeze.

An od is good fer berry pie,
Sweet enough ta make you cry.

A coin called bard, of silver metal,
A meal fer four and cha'ah in'ta kettle.

Lastly comes th' great mithrene,
T'would buy a feast out of a dream.
 

These creative bits of doggerel are commonly heard daily on the streets of the Santharian capital, New-Santhala. Particularly in the large and crowded markets where vendors' stalls jostle each other for room and the vendors themselves must compete for passerbys' attention, a chant or even a sing-song cry will attract more eyes, and possibly increase sales - at least, this is the theory behind most market chants... Listen and judge for yourself!

Flower-seller:
"Buy my fine fla'ars, buy my fine fla'ars,
Ladies and lovers, buy my fine fla'aars!
Lords, lads and lasses, buy my fine fla'aaaars!"

Butcher:
(non-stop, variations on the following)
"Need a cut o' meat for the table, for the table,
need a roast, need a slice, buy a chop,
come on here, bring 'em in, got the coin,
lay it down, lay it down, here's a cut,
here's a hock, here's a slice, ain't it nice?
Need a good taenish for the pot tonight?
Here's a garthook on the hook, here's a duck out o' luck,
here's lamb, here's goat, here's venison too,
have a bite tonight! Take a look, smell it cook,
just a coin in my hand, put it down, lay it down...."

Tinsmith:
(punctuated by rhythmic clangs as she mends a kettle)
"Oh, I've (clang) a pot (clang) that needs (clang) a lot (clang)
Of taps (clang) and bangs (clang) ta make (clang) it new! (clang)
So come (clang) me friends (clang) and bring (clang) yer ends (clang)
of pots (clang) and pans (clang) I'll fix (clang) fer you! (clang)..."

Fishmonger:
"FrrrrrrrESH fish... FrrrrrrESH fish!
Me fish are fresher than a clerk's howde'ye'do!
Me fish are finer than th' lace on a lady's smallclothes!
Me fish are tastier than Moll Lightlove's lips, and cheaper than Moll's ...." (interrupted by laughter)
"Well, anyhow, me fish are fine an' fresh an' straight from the sea this early mornin',
so if yer don't buy 'em now t'won't be me fault yer missing the best dinner this side o' the Mithrals...  - FrrrrrrrrrESH FISH! FRRRRRESH FISH!..."

Baker:
"Bread, bread, fresh-baked bread,
A copper a loaf, a copper a head...."

Cobbler:
"Shoes and boots with dirty great holes?
Bring 'em to me, I'll save yer soles!"

A dyes chant overheard at the city market of Marcogg.