.Discipline
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The Blarney Rover
I pant because I'm out of breath,
My clothes are ripped and torn,
But still I wield my weapon true,
To slice a leprechaun,
A hard task there's never been,
Although I'm growing old,
I'll keep on fighting hard and fast,
To take all of their gold.
I might be drunk on beer and ale,
I might be hurt or tired,
But there's none like an Irish scream,
To keep my passion fired,
If Uncle Sham thinks he will win,
There's something he should know,
As soon and 'till St Paddy's day,
His soldiers I will mow.
But lo, what is this beast I see?
It's belching golden fire...
Could it be a basilisk?
Is it a Dracopyre?
Half Irishman and half reptile?
No that cannot be right,
Perhaps I've drunken more than my fair share of brew tonight...
As soon as I had stopped to think,
In my own drunken haze,
The Dragonchaun charged straight at me,
In such a frenzied rage,
That there and then I froze in fear,
In worry of my health,
So beer and terror combined,
As I promptly soiled myself.
A coward I had never been,
But as I looked upon that scene,
A golden dragon I must slay?
I took my pint and ran away!
I sobered up and as I ran,
I felt a lot less like a man,
But next year I'll even the score,
I'll fight another Blarney War!
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