Role

Chapter 27

Juhldalor had been passed out upon the table in the Biddy's Inn
having fantasies of a crowd of dwarves, celebrating something
or perhaps nothing, standing on the tables, ale sloshing as they wobbled
singing a grand song to their Lady Ysaloerye. In his drunkin
fantasy, he could hear a song of the earth, a song of the fire in his gut
and what else would a drunken dwarf dream about if not drinking some more.

When Juhldalor awoken, he penned to his strange barmaid a song in his head,
a song of his biddy, of his lady, that the world would need to hear.

"Biddy Brew"

Oooooooh! Drink a tankard O'Ale er hour,
bitter yer lips yer face gon sour!
Dem biddy be doin dem dancin jig,
smashin dem duergars bones she'd be takin a swig.

Cool an deep from dem earth be a'growin true,
dem barley an rye dat makin dem ale.
Dem earth be givin dem life ta brew,
Whad bein yer choice den, dark er pale!

Ooooooh! Drink a tankard O'Ale er hour,
bitter yer lips yer face gone sour.
Dem biddy be fir'en dem forges true,
hammer in hand while slurpin em brew!

Dem Beadin bubbles blinkin on dem brim,
yer beard be soaked through an through.
Dem barmaids be comin filled ta dem rim,
dare busts bein poppin from behind dem brew.

OOOOOoohh! Drink a tankard O'ale er hour,
bitter yer lips yer face gone sour,
Dem biddy be strikin meh heart a true,
Dem finest dwarven lass ah ever a knew!


Ah Drinkin Song fer meh Lady Ysaloerye,
She bringin dem fire o dem Earth ta meh gut.

Juhldalor StrolGinnit, Seeker Oh dem Paragon