The Wanderer

The wanderer upon his path
Not caring where he goes
Through lands a pleasant and lands a barren
With friends and with foes

His heart is where the mountains rise
And where the rivers flow
His minds with springs' first flowers bloom
And with winters first snows

He thoughts are noble, his hopes are pure
He helps the helpless
Though attacks he endures

He rejoiced with the living
Fights off the dead
Asks not for a reward
No crown upon his head

His will's as strong as whiskey
Mind mild as milk
Determination harder than runite
Conscience soft as silk

He cuts with the gnomes
Mines with the dwarves
Crafts with the elves
Fishes from the wharves

He slays the evil creatures
Touched by an evil hand
Purifies the unholy ones
In the evil land

He will help those whose town
Has just been pillaged
But he knows when his wandering's done
Theres no place like Runevillage

Written by - Mr Penguin12
Proofread by - Monk Basher
Coded by - Poison333