Author Topic: [Book] Nord Drinking Songs  (Read 818 times)


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[Book] Nord Drinking Songs
« on: July 20, 2015, 04:52:29 PM »
Title: Nord Drinking Songs
Author: Deandre

Hail, thirsty traveler! I have been to many a establishment devoted to the wonderful art of drinking, some so exquisite that a word, or a nod, or turning around three times while picking one’s ear is required to even enter the waiting room; others so rough around the edges that the windows rarely last a week and the fireplace is lit by pieces of furniture gone before. But rarely have I encountered anything as distinguished as that of a Nord mead hall. Nowhere else on Tamriel can one be regaled with the fine art that is the Nord drinking song. If you find yourself fortunate to patronize one of these fine establishments, regale yourself with these specimens of the singing craft:

We drink a drink
 To three-legged Stan.
 Who walked as
 Only a man can.

 He'd brandish his sword
 For all to see.
 Whipping it out,
 Causing most to flee.

 Over the waves he flew
 In a ship of stone.
 With nary a place
 To call his home.

 He sailed far and wide,
 A lady in every dock.
 Always was he happy,
 Going 'round the block.

 One day his luck ran out.
 He docked in a new port,
 Forgetting to check his list
 As he looked for new sport.

 The master caught him
 As he was lowering his sails.
 And broke his sword,
 Before he could turn tail.

 So raise a glass
 To Three-Legged Stan.
 He would be here today,
 If only he watched his ass.


Ale and wenches
 Wenches and ale.
 All we need
 Drinking on the benches.

 When the ale is free
 And the wenches doubly so,
 Hold on to your ears,
 For the songs surely flow.

 We raise our glasses
 High into the air,
 Trying to ignore
 The splinters in our asses.

 The Blind Moose is keen
 On keeping us happy.
 For the old widow loves us,
 The bastards of her dreams.


A red bearded flask
 For a red headed lass.
 As fiery as the day is long,
 Keeps a man warm the night strong.

 Steely eyes stop a heart,
 Shapely legs give it a start.
 Quick to temper,
 Quicker to care.
 Don't try to hamper,
 Or her fist you'll bear.

 So raise a glass
 To that fiery maiden.
 Mind your cadence,
 'Lest she kicks your arse.


Ten thousand flasks
 Raised in cheer.
 Ten thousand fists
 Holding good beer.

 The time has come
 To drain that glass.
 One good swallow
 Through the mouth it'll pass.

 Don't spill a drop!
 Chug it down.
 Don't clean your beard,
 Flick it ‘round.

 Drain our mugs,
 Sing our cheer,
 For we await
 The next keg of beer.