Saturday, 20 June 2020

Murder Hobo Shanties





































What songs do murder hobos sing too and from or during or after a heist on the home of some rightless humanoids daring to live in the wilderness within reach of a tavern?

Good enough for LOTR and the WItcher to sing lots.
What are your Bards singing?

Submit your own terrible ideas in comments and I will send you magical vibes that might possibly be therapeutic.

Anyway 

Down In The Dungeon
Oh where has that dungeon door gone?
Oh where has that dungeon door gone"
Ive been lost in the dungeon so long
Can't remember where we went wrong
Hope I'm home 'fore Im eating human meat

Oh where has that secret door gone?
Oh where has that secret door gone?
Ive been wanderin the labyrinth so long
My sweetheart waits for me but if I die ill set her free
Id sooner be alive and than gone

Oh where did that trap trigger go?
Oh where did that trap trigger go?
Ive been down this hole for so long
Covered in monster blood and dung
Think something wrong has touched my soul

Oh where did that lost treasure go?
Oh where did that lost treasure go?
Ive been down the deep so long
My eyesight and skin colours gone
And now I drink men's blood like wine

The Heroes Life
All you steady merry men
Full of drink and all well fed
Dream of a heroes life untrue
But sad truths make you turn bitter cold and blue

A heroes life both bleak and uncouth
Full of murder, mayhem and rancid food
Curses, traitors and the taxmen too
For a wasted life and a squandered youth

See friends die all one by one
Burned or stabbed or poisoned dead
What starts exiting changes you
Till all that matters is gold and booze

Wandering homeless looting tombs
Then drinking while you lick your wounds
What starts an itch ends a festered wound
Folk only love you when you have loot

Every heist you get betrayed
Lusting for treasure keeps you enslaved
Kings enthral you with gifts of land
The more you grasp the less you have

For every hero who makes it rich
Ten scores more wind up dead in a ditch
When your old and the golds all gone
Youll be dead in the gutter where you belong 

That's What Murder Hobos Do!
Flay their skin cut off their nose
Squeeze their guts and smash their toes
Kill their children to burn their homes
That's what murder hobos do

Crack their skulls break their bones
Search their guts for precious stones
Kill a priest to save your soul
That's what murder hobos do

Sell monster teeth and bilestone
Collect their glands for rich cologne
Take their gold and chairs and bricks
That's what murder hobos do!

Wander homeless parts unknown
Awful sins cant be atoned
The road to hell ever postponed
That's what murder hobos do!

Sometimes the ones run through a this Shakespeare translator are good
though I dislike kick the bucket put in for death every time and nerfed that

Down in the dungeon
oh wh're hast yond dungeon doth'r gone?
oh wh're hast yond dungeon doth'r gone"
ive been hath lost in the dungeon so longeth
can't rememb'r wh're we wenteth wrong
desire i'm home 'f're im eating human meat

oh wh're hast yond secret doth'r gone?
oh wh're hast yond secret doth'r gone?
ive been wand'rin the labyrinth so longeth
mine own leman waits f'r me but if i die ill setteth h'r free
id lief'r beest alive and than gone

oh wh're didst yond trapeth trigg'r wend?
oh wh're didst yond trapeth trigg'r wend?
ive been down this hole f'r so longeth 
cov'r'd in monst'r blood and dung
bethink something wrong hast did touch mine own soul

oh wh're didst yond hath lost treasure wend?
oh wh're didst yond hath lost treasure wend?
ive been down the deep so longeth
mine own eyesight and skin colours gone
and anon i drinketh men's blood liketh wine

the h'roes life
all thee steady m'rry men
full of drinketh and all well did feed
dreameth of a h'roes life untrue
but depress'd truths maketh thee turneth bitter cold and blue

a h'roes life both bleak and uncouth
full of murd'r, mayhem and rancid food
curses, trait'rs and the taxmen too
f'r a did waste life and a squand'r'd youth

seeth cater-cousins die all one by one
burn'd 'r yerked 'r poison'd dead
what starts exiting changes thee
till all yond matt'rs is gold and booze

wand'ring homeless looting tombs
then drinking while thee licketh thy wounds
what starts an itcheth ends a fest'r'd wound
folk only loveth thee at which hour thee has't loot

ev'ry heist thee receiveth did betray
lusting f'r treasure keeps thee enslav'd
kings enthral thee with gifts of landeth
the m're thee grasp the less thee has't

f'r ev'ry h'ro who is't maketh t rich
ten sc'res m're windeth up dead in a ditch
at which hour thy fusty and the golds all gone
youll beest dead in the gutt'r wh're thee belongeth 

yond's what murd'r hobos doth!
flay their skin cutteth off their nose
squeezeth their guts and smasheth their toes
killeth their children to burneth their homes
yond's what murd'r hobos doth

cracketh their skulls breaketh their bones
searcheth their guts f'r precious stones
killeth a augurer to saveth thy soul
yond's what murd'r hobos doth

selleth monst'r teeth and bilestone
collecteth their glands f'r rich cologne
taketh their gold and chairs and bricks
yond's what murd'r hobos doth!

wand'r homeless parts unknown
awful sins cant beest aton'd
the road to hell ev'r postpon'd
yond's what murd'r hobos doth!

5 comments:

  1. Really taken with this idea, here's one off the top of the dome

    "Through ancient stone we crawl,
    Through halls as black as night,
    Through twisted gates of sorcery,'neath torch-glow's hellish light.
    We spend our days beneath the earth
    Where all the horrors of man are birthed,
    Shunning kith and kin the same
    Searching for glory, gold, and fame.
    And though we may, forgotten, die,
    We'll delve the depths lost to the sky."

    ReplyDelete
  2. Another one cause I couldn't resist

    "it's dawn on the surface now, my lads
    but the night reigns in these halls

    the dungeon gives us not a sign
    to guide us as we crawl

    from Bastard's Chasm
    to Pekknit's Steep
    where the gristlebats
    and spiders sleep,
    and the Swallowed King’s followers
    drink long and deep
    and hold their drunken mass"

    ReplyDelete
  3. And another one; sorry, didn't mean to spam but this whole concept is a goldmine

    "Fix the map in your minds, my boys, this is our last torch here.
    Forget your gods and spirits both,
    pray only to your gear.
    Pray that the iron doesn’t rust, and pray the leather holds fast;
    one tiny slip is all it takes for a man to breath his last.
    Rogues, you'd best go check the ropes, the rest, go check the spears.
    Muffle your breath, and hush your speech,
    and pray that nothing hears."

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh, my. That's all I've got. Except a big belly laugh. Thanks fer a bit o'distraction.

    ReplyDelete

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