Lyrics: Anonymous |
Music: Ode to Joy
Archers make ignoble foemen,
Shoot at you then run away.
Gosh darned feather-plucking bowmen
They're the ones I love to slay.
Run and chase them, axe and mace them,
Grind them into fine paté.
God made archers just to bug me
Geez, I wish they'd go away.
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