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