by Nick Gisburne
They gather together, a villainous crew
In a tavern, The Galloping Dog
With silver they pay for a glutinous stew
And a generous measure of grog
These outlaws and brigands and pirates and thieves
Are the worst of the average best
But knackered or not every bandit believes
In the glory and gold of a quest
“We ride on the morrow!” cheers Gretel the Grim
“We fly like a nail from a toe!”
Her brother, the muscle-bound Derek the Dim
Sees a problem. “We’ve nowhere to go.”
The bald-headed wizard, Cornelius Nit
Rubs the glass of his eye. “Let us think.
Together we’ll find a solution for it
And to this let us toast, let us drink!”
To the treasure we find and the gold in our chest
Let us drink to the glorious quest!
The dwarvish twin brothers, Shambuca and Sod
Bang their swords with a furious crash
“We’ve heard that Tiranto, the mystery god
Has a mountain of jewels and cash”
“He’s bankrupt, all gone in a pyramid scheme,”
Says the innkeeper’s wife, with a wink
“He paid for a dozen, then ran out of steam.
But enough of that, who’s for a drink?”
To the treasure you find and the gold in your chest
Drink your fill to the glorious quest!
Imelda the Ravenous, Queen of the Bite
Spits the crumbs from a mouthful of cake
“I’ve got the wrong breeches, this leather’s too tight
And my corsets are starting to ache”
She opens a button, which shatters a glass
As it pings to the back of the bar
“Let’s all have another! It’s giving me gas
But the smell isn’t toxic... so far.”
To the treasure locked up in my glorious chest
Let us drink while I loosen this dress!
“A city of dragons, a river of gold
That’s the rumour I’ve heard from the south”
The warlord is crooked, incredibly old
And he guards the lone tooth in his mouth
“Oh, Dennis, you darling,” laughs Libertine Len
As he freshens the rouge on his cheeks
“Those dragons are drinkers like all of you men
That’s a river of pee, and it reeks”
There’s laughing and drinking, more drinking and more
And the privy door bangs as it shuts
The pirate, Old Percy, has started to snore
But he wakes with a pain in the guts
To the treasure! Oh bugger, I’ve stained me new vest
Gizza drink, it’s a glory-arse quest!
“There’s goblins aplenty,” adds Dylan the Bard
“Very tricky to track, but it pays
To get a good goblin you need to work hard
Ask my wife, that’s what she always says”
A hiccuping elf, lying flat on the floor
Holds a gravy-stained map to his face
“These mountains are taters! Oy, innkeeper! More!
What’s it take to get served in this place?”
To the trouble! The treasure! The gravy! Oh yes!
Leave me down here, I’m making a nest
“It’s time for a sing-song! Go Dylan!” squeals Len
“Do ‘The Legend of Witchfinder’s Hole’!”
“You leave my hole out of it. Never again,”
Says the Witchfinder, “Not with a troll.”
“Do we know where we’re going yet?” Gretel is sad
“We’ve got dreams. We all know what they are.”
“Oh, poor Gretel. What’s yours?” says Methuselah’s dad
Gretel grins. “Pint of grog – there’s the bar!”
He’s flexing, it’s Derek, the challenge is on
Only one of his arms against six
“You’re not even trying.” Their chances are none
And he throws them away like old sticks
I am Derek the Dim, I put oil on my chest
Let us drink as I dead lift the quest!
“Cornelius, magic your way out of that!”
And Imelda grabs hold of his wand
She dances and wears just the wizard’s old hat
No one doubts she’s a natural blonde
Old Dennis, the former destroyer of men
Holds the last of his teeth in the air
“I’ve lost it! I’ve lost it!” “We know you have, Den
But we all have, and none of us care!”
A thunderous, shattering, fairly loud boom
Knocks the drunken old soaks to floor
The silence which follows envelops the room
Percy lets out a fart, and one more
The steps of a dozen, or more, maybe less
Or a loner with plenty of boots
With no working brains, they have no way to guess
And with no other rhyme, an owl hoots
The door crashes open and framed in its frame
Not the Furies, the Fuzz or the Fates
Not demons or monsters, not f-words of flame
Just Magnificent Mog and her mates
“We’re loaded with jewels and plenty of cash
Give us each a big bucket of grog
We’ve come for the booze, but we need a quick splash
We are busting, so where is the bog?”
Relieved, they return to the harrowing sight
Of a booze-up they’ve already missed
They hand out green potions called ‘Restart the Night’
And they all drink together, re-pissed
To the treasure we found and the gold in our chest
Let us drink to the glorious quest!
The villains of old in The Galloping Dog
Are at one with a new kind of crew
They drink to the plans of Magnificent Mog
And make regular trips to the loo
If ever you travel with gold in your chest
And if ever you’re lost in the fog
The time of your life is all there as a guest
At the glorious Galloping Dog
