I'm waking up my wooden chum
I sand the wheels and I make sawdust
I'm heading out on the wagon trails
(inhale) (exhale)
I'm checking twice, loading up, then heading out on the wooden bus
This is it, wagonpocalypse
Whoa
I'm waking up, time to hit the road
Time to make my wagon roll
Welcome to the wood age, to the wood age
I'm gonna fight 'em off
A thousand-goblin siege couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Busting my wagon right behind my back
And I'm grumblin' to myself at night
Because I shant forget
Back and forth through my mind
Wooden compatriot..
And the message comin' from my eyes says leave it alone...
Don't wanna hear about it
Every engraving got a story to tell
Everyone carves about it
From the mountainhomes to the clowns of hell
And if vengeful thoughts come my way
I'm gonna serve water to you
And that ain't what you want to drink
But that's what I'll do
And the fell mood coming from my soul says to craft with bone...
I'm going to Wintercoil
Far from the shame I feel forevermore
I'm gonna tame the frogs
Make the leather strips out of every pore
And I'm noticed, and convicted, and I'm bleeding
Before the hammerlord
After my wagon failure is beat from me
Then I will think no more
And the gallows made from wagon-wood tell me "Go back home"...
Urist was a wagon driver
And he drove so Armok-damned fast
He never did win no =platinum goblet=
But he never did come in last
Urist was a wagon driver
He'd say "Etnar, I'm number one"
With a splash of goblin blood
On the front of the hull he'd light 'em up
Just for !!fun!!
Captain Fash was a soldier
Moltencats militia #3
I'll be a wealthy man when I get
A rose gold coin for all the things that
Dwarf taught to me
Captain Fash was a strong dwarf
Strong as any dwarf alive
It made him tantrum to death that they
Made him make lye because he lost both of his eyes
Urist was a wagon driver
62 years old
Had too many barrels one night
And drove himself into a necro tower.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many cold and crude volume concerning wagon lore—
While I struggled, novice reader, suddenly there came a cracking,
As of something violently attacking, bashing at my fortress door.
“’Tis some invader,” I grumbled, “raving at my gabbro door—
One to ten, and nothing more.”
Ah, drunkenly I was freezing in the month of Moonstone;
And each separate dying purring maggot wrought its remains upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought the brewer
To fill my barren wagon-wood barrel—sorrow for the empty artifact Limbnorth—
Would the jewel-encrusted and spiked barrel whom the gods named Limbnorth—
Stay useless, empty, for evermore?
And the silken, earthy, ambrosial extract of each plump helmet
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic mood modifiers never felt before;
So that now, to still the tingling in my beard, I stood repeating
“’Tis perhaps the brewer seeking passage through my gabbro door—
Not undead, or beasts, or small green fiends, beyond the gabbro door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Dwarf,” said I, “or Invader, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was knapping, and with such rage you came attacking,
And the vigor which you came ransacking, barbarian-bashing my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure you were sane”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, though beard tingling, sensing danger like never before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whiskered word, “Limbnorth?”
This I whispered, and an echo from the empty cask murmured back the word, “Limbnorth..!”—
Just water for tonight, and nothing more..
Back into the fortress turning, all my sobriety within me burning,
Soon again I heard a mammoth slamming, louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my !!gabbro door!!;
Let me see, then, what gentle dwarf there is, and this mystery explore—
Let my beard be still a moment and this visitor implored;—
’Give me booze and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the gabbro, when, with many a splinter and spatter,
In there burst a shattered bloody Wagon of the embark-day of yore;
Not the least opportunity made it; steel axe would not have stopped or stayed it;
But, with the strength of beastly titan, with extreme and excess speed collided—
Pinching my body in half just below my central core—
Now half a dwarf, and nothing more.
And the Wagon, halfway-living, still is pinning, still is sitting
Holding firm my rotted torso just beside my gabbro door;
And its planks have all the seeming of a =Wagon=, whole and completed,
And no dwarf would ever recover the missing artifact barrel Limbnorth;
And my soul from out that chamber haunts those that threaten my Lord,
Praise the Wagon—forevermore!
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Topic: Here lies Wagon: may he rest in peace (Read 126975 times)