It was on the 3rd of August, our of Aronmeray,
Half a dozen horse, and a wagonload of hay
There had been a party, hangovers galore,
Our clerics were unconscious and our fighters saddlesore
And there were Dragons, Dragons, flying o’er the road
Wyverns right behind us and before us Yellow Mold
And there were Orcses, Orcses, hiding in the wood
They were out to get us because we were Lawful Good.
We were not discouraged, we were set to fight
But we had drunk two gallons of the finest wine that night
Laurel was disheveled, Clara was the same
And the elf who traveled with us was too drunk to know his name
The Dragons go the horses, the Orcs got even more
And chewing on our wagon was an ugly Manticore
We finally work Aurellan, he would make them pay
But he really pulled a boner when he mimbled spells that day.
His fireball misfired, his lightning missed its mark
And soon the party found itself incased in total dark
He tried to polymorph them, that dirty ancient louse
We did not think it funny when Armand became a mouse.
Our fighters bravely battled, but it was all for naught
For we had not the measure of the monsters that we fought.
Twas our Bard who finally saved us, for she could.