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The tavern is bustling, smell of mead in the air

Drunken Dwarves and Half-Orcs are giving you the glare

You put down your pint, hang your cloak up on the wall

The bar's about to close last call into the brawl

Bodies are flying, plates smash against the floor

A drunken wizard opens an interplanar door

Atronachs flood in and start moshing all around

Intoxicated bodies pile up into a mound

Come down, it's time for the next round

Many an adventurers been pummeled to the ground

Who will be the last one to black out and fall?

The knuckles keep on flyin' as the barkeep yells, last call!

Dragonborn or Ogrekin, ask me if I give a fuck

I'll knock out any fuckin’ thing, looks like you need a potion of luck

I've got ten gallons of mead, going straight into my brain

This bar brawl's growing out of hand this party's getting insane

Fisticuffs with a dozen Gnomes, break their little teeth and snap all their bones

Slowly, the vanquished let out their groans

You grab a keg and let mead flow as your force yourself to swallow

Broken ribs won't stop you from coming back again tomorrow