There once was a gnome from Emon

                        Who sang a scandalous song

                        The ladies would swoon,

                        At his rather large tune

                        And say, “My, it’s impossibly long!”

                        I knew a goliath in Whitestone,

                        Who lived in a very, very fine home.

                        ‘Til one day a wizard,

                        Or maybe a large lizard,

                        Burned it and left him alone.

                        There once was a gnome with a mace

                        Who had an adorable face!

                        She never would bed me,

                        But, I hope she won’t forget me

                        ‘Cause, oh, how I do love the chase!

                        I once knew a bear named Trinket,

                        And would often tell you, “He stink-it!”

                        But you were appalled,

                        So you kicked me in the balls,

                        And now I don’t say it, I just think it!

                        I know an air-headed young druid

                        Whose plans are more gassy than fluid.

                        When the battle starts,

                        She turns her pals into farts,

                        They see danger and pass right through it!

                        Have you heard tale of Scanlan the Bard?

                        Or, Burt Reynolds, if you look at his card.

                        Always tries to get laid

                        Sometimes with ladies he made

                        But I still respect him, because rhyming is hard.

                        Friend, I don’t mean to sound bitter,

                        But, a year ago, life was a s****er,

                        ‘Til I picked up some dice

                        With some friends, it was nice!

                        And now, ah, I’m a critter!

                        Have you heard the legend of Shale?

                        One eye, elderly, frail.

                        To a black dragon she told,

                        “You may be ancient, but I’m old!”

                        And somehow lived to tell the tale.

                        A warning from you favorite bard

                        In the Feywild, you should be en guarde

                        I went off to take a s***ter,

                        And saw, like, a thousand critters,

                        And they kind of made me hard!

                        Kevdak had these terrible knuckles

                        They beat up on Grog while he chuckled

                        But while Kevin laughed

                        Grog sliced him in half

                        And said, ‘These are mine now, f***les!’

                        I know a gunman with a white coiff-ah

                        Who acted evil and had a bad cough-ah

                        He learned that someone

                        Had possessed his big guns

                        So I threw that s*** in the lava.

                        Have you heard tale of Scanlan the bold?

                        He won’t tell us his age, but he’s old!

                        With his blade, he’s a slayer,

                        With the ladies, a player,

                        But, if he picks up the flute he’s pure gold!

                        Sam’s style is not what you’d call quaint

                        Let’s be honest, my man is no saint.

                        But, LootCrate is happy,

                        His pitch plans are snappy,

                        Singing songs about fisting and taint.

                        Gern Blanston wept and wepto

                        His wonderful broom had been swepto

                        First our Vex spied it

                        Then she Shanghai-ed it

                        Cause it turns out she’s total klepto.

                        Here lies Scanlan the Bard,

                        A gnome who sang soft but died hard.

                        To anyone who hears us,

                        Both far and wide,

                        Bring us back our dirty friend,

                        At least one more time.

        

                        He may not be tall, or brute, or rough,

                        He may be little, but his heart is buff.

                        We are a party, and every party needs a clown.

                        Without our friend to rein us in,

                        We’ll burn down your whole f***ing town!

        

                        You see, I love this gnome very much,

                        He’s small like me, but he’s touched.

                        He’s raided and slain,

                        He’s pooped while he sang,

                        But if he’s gone forever I won’t be the same.

                        Now that he’s learned he’s a dad,

                        The journey that all of us had,

                        Cannot be in vain, will not be in waste.

                        Please Scanlan, open your eyes,

                        And see your daughter’s face.