|
I've got no use for dragons, |
|
I've got no use for swords |
|
I'll never make a wordy toast |
|
To a table full of lords |
|
Of pearls and opals give me none |
|
of rubies red as fire, |
|
the beer at The Prancing Pony |
|
is all that I desire. |
|
Some kings may sip from a cup of gold |
|
But a wooden mug is all I'll hold! |
|
To drink the dainty mead of kings |
|
I never did aspire! |
|
The King once marched to Morannon Gate |
|
With an army proud and fair, |
|
To take the war of Mordor |
|
To the Dark Lord's very lair. |
|
And when at last the day was won |
|
A new age for the world begun |
|
And Butterbur made his finest brew, |
|
There never was a better! |
|
The hour late, my thirst was great |
|
the crowd began to sing. |
|
But all grew quiet, for what a sight |
|
when in there walked the King! |
|
A round he bought for the happy throng |
|
And then the King began a song. |
|
He raised his mug of beer on high, |
|
And this is what he said... |
|
Some kings may sip from a cup of gold |
|
But a wooden mug is all I'll hold! |
|
To drink the dainty mead of kings |
|
I never did aspire! |
