KrynnWoman's Dragonlance Resource The Home Page Artwork I've done Products - Novels, Comics & More Reading Orders for the Novels Quotes from the Novels Songs from the Novels Reviews - Novels
Songs

Reference

Companion books that help the reader delve deeper into the Dragonlance Saga. Artwork, maps, songs, recipies and short stories can be found in these reference books.

Other information about Reference Books

Series Summary

Reviews

Quotes

Song Title

Location

History of Dragonlance --- page 2
History of Dragonlance --- page 38, 193, 202
History of Dragonlance --- page 61
History of Dragonlance --- page 207
History of Dragonlance --- page 213
History of Dragonlance --- page 215
History of Dragonlance --- page 223
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 12
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 195, 220
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 196
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 196
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 197
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 197, 228
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 199
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 199
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 199
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 200
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 201
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 202
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 203
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 204
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 205, 231, 234
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 206
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 208
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- pge 208, 213, 217
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 209
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 209
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 210
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 210
Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 211
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 6
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 183
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 186
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 187
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 218
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 226
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 230
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 232
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 236
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 243
More Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home --- page 244
Black NotesBlack Notes
 

Five Hymns

Hymn to Water
Sing praise to the armies of water,
Sing praise to the dolphins
To the bright constellation
Of moon light fractured on spindrift,
Sing praise to the hallowed
Current of blood.

We were born of the water,
Of the godhead glancing
On the face of the oceans like moonlight:
The youngest of elements,
Water, the blood of the gods,
Its first home the harbor's
0f Ergoth and Balifor,
The splendid and featureless
Ice and marble
Of doomed and imperial Istar.
Water our source
And water our mother,
The warm, amniotic
swell of the tide
The perpetual rain
Or seeming perpetual
As river and rivulet
Fade in the fire
Disappear in the stations of earth.

Praise to the element
Fluid and human,
To its sudden arisings
Cascadings and vanishings,
Praise above all
To the water's resurgence,
To the prospect of rain
In a desert country,
The faint and coppery
Hint of a river
In the cavern's depth
In the height of the mountains
The rumor of springs,

Oh as Istar falls
And Ergoth surrenders,
Palanthas and Balifor
Crumble and rise in our hands,
Praise to the water,
Exact and eternal,
The passion of cloud
And miraged horizons,
For the brief supple downpour
0f dolphin on dolphin;
The journey of humankind
Over the promise of seas.


Hymn to Fire
The constellations are a wheel of fire
Fire on fire interlinking
In all the great machineries of heaven,
The sun, the revolving moons,
And looking up into the work of hands,
Into the gods' contraption
Where night descends like clockwork, like the play
And tumult of devices, Presents an intricate philosophy
A nature rapt by numbers.

Oh, do not tell us that the gods' first faces
Here simple and profound.
It is a fiction of the human year
A winter maintaining that
We strip away all glitter, all device
The intricate bells and whistles
And underneath them all, there lie the gods.
Divinity is intricate
The blue corona on the lip of flame
The jeweler's gear enmeshed
With instruments of joy, with steam and powder.
Love is an intricate engine, Moving and unmoved, it scatters fire
Over mandala and zodiac
It scatters fire into the fallow night,

Each whistle and each bell, each dang and clatter
The heart's theology.
So let the hymn, like well-considered incense
Rise on a draft of air,
Let blueprint of the mechanism fade
And torque and velocity dwindle,
We are the ones who fashion these, our hands
Limned and mortal in days.
Let hymns ignite upon the edge of stars,
Let them wheel and intertwine,
Creating elaborate music in the sky,
High above Nevermind and our devices,
And then in fashioned daylight we will voyage Past sun and stars into the source of light.


Hymn to Air
Imminent, invisible
region of light and wind,
defining the arc
of the hoopak's stone
with a riffle of head-high grain,
It goes where it will,
extending horizons
imagining water and earth and fire.
Contained in its cradling,
divine insufflation,
the wind makes everything possible.

 

The childhood's element
sea of the barks
of leaf and dust mote
it goes where it will,
abides unexpectedly
and a dozen days pass
before we remember
how it bathes us, sustains us
and halfway forgotten
imagines the life of our days.

One time by the river
when the quietest element
moved on the waters
fragmenting reflection
and spangling the country with light,
and once on a road
where an afternoon storm
beckoned and threatened
the host of the air,
I have stood, oh my brothers,
and marveled the wind at its passing,
for each day is the wake of the wind,
the rich expectancy
of water and leaf,
the engendering flight of seed and samara;
eight countries of peace
depart in a tumult of sails,
and the king of the wind
is the king of the innocent heart.


Hymn to Earth
Of rock and earth, of magma and cold shale
Build our belief. The hammer of the god
A truth forged in the absence of starlight.
And here amid the sediment of years
In darkness covering darkness, where the eye
Mines for the ore of mystery, the earth
Lies rich with promise and the fire of days.

Thorbardin and Thoradin, half an age
Has covered you, and half a dozen wars.
Here, in a thousand seasons,
Breath transforms to rock, to immaculate crystal,
Bone to onyx, the blood's loud current stilled
In the white stalactite. Here all things lie down
In darkness, and a vein of ore recalls
The lost light of our dreaming days.
And this is what we dream, what we remember:
In the black husks of carbon, we awake,
Devolving centuries, transforming fire,
The blue millennial diamond in our hearts.

So insubstantial are the bonds of earth
That stone is breath and pyrite is desire,
The light of gemstones is a rain of stars,
And what is gracious, what is misconstrued
As old illusion in the hooded night
Is the true vein that binds the bone to breathing,
Binds stone to the gods' air, and in the vein
The gold, glimpsed like a prophecy of light.


Hymn to Memory
If we forget you, Silvanost,
the fragmented vault
of birch and vallenwood
which is always diminishing,

If we forget
the sorcerous tower
the black harp of the river,

If we forget you, let memory lose
its imagined meaning
in a net of leaves,

Let star and cenotaph
cool uninhabited
and a thousand years
unpeople the country of sleep.

Earth and water, fire and air
are the seeds of the world,
memory its soil
which we do not forget.

In the days of waiting,
when the seed in secret
takes root and grows,
the promise of light,
the nurture of air and water
find union in memory,
Silvanost, lest we forget.

And a thousand years
and the ruin of empires
are survived by the air
and the earth and the light
and water and memory,
memory binding together
the last breath of empire
with the advent of breath.

Oh, if we forget you
let mountain and river
let red moon and summer
still in our heartbeats,
let the dream of the elves
fragment and diminish,
and perpetual winter
nest in the skeletal trees.

 

Haiku

An Elven Haiku Portrait
Hermit wizard's jest;
Sapphire, jade, brilliant eyes,
Wyrmkin's hope reborn

Arcane notes resound;
A bard's enchanting pipes,
Queen and brood obey.

Windswept mountain vale;
Warrior's tomb and mournful prayer,
One more spirit lost.

Autumn's forest trail;
Lurking foes, a sword forewarns,
Chilling calm, beware!

  An Elven Haiku Portrait
Lonely mountain slopes;
Thunderous steps, closer now,
Elven bows aimed true.

Swift wing, feathered white ;
Talons rake with arcane wrath,
Griffin, mage, are one.

Glitter, ancient gold;
Flaming breath and wyrm's fey mist,
Giantbane, behold!

Tail, strong, black-steel clad
Ancient tears on vengeful blade,
Mourn, 0 warrior's son.

 

Elven Haiku
Citadel of rock;
Clouds gather and thunder roars,
Death upon the winds.

Fortress, flying rock;
Dragons scream and circle high,
Shadows on the land.

Eyes of evil fire;
Forsaken soul, honor lost,
Death and nightmares charge.

Ancient earthborne souls;
Children of the ageless world,
Sleep, 0 ancient wyrms.

 

Mereklar Cat Legend

It is written, the land will know five ages,
but the last shall not come if darkness
succeeds, coming through the gate.
Darkness sends its agents, stealthy
and black, to find the gate, to
be there when the time arrives.
The cats alive are the turning
stone, they decide the fate,
darkness or light, in the
city that stands before
the first gods.
 

It is written,
the Lord of Cats
will come, aiding his
dominion, leading only
for them, following no other,
the agents for one and three.
The cats alive are the turning stone,
they decide the fate, darkness or light,
in the city that stands before the first gods.

 

Elven Love Song

Look, Look how moonlight doth caress
Your skin, soft, pale, and warm,
And summons moonstone essenses
that glint along your arm,
That glint along your arm.

Gold darts through your tresses fair
Like amber caught and caged.
And in your pointed shadowed ear
Are amethysts arrayed,
Are amethysts arrayed.

 

Silver sparks your lapis eye
with ardent passion's gleam
Kindling fire that doth deny
Platonic love serene,
Platonic love serene.

Look how moonlight doth caress
Your elegant, lithe form,
Graceful maid who summons forth
My love's sweet painful storm,
My love's sweet painful storm.

 

Hail Takhisis


Hail to the Queen of Darkness,
Majesty of the Abyss.
Hail Takhisis, allegiance to thee
(Hail Takhisis, hail Takhisis, allegiance to thee, Takhisis)
I swear eternally.

Hail to the Blood, Oath, and Code
Framing the Vision foretold.
Hail Takhisis, allegiance to thee
(Hail Takhisis, hail Takhisis, allegiance to thee, Takhisis)
I swear eternally.

Hail to the Order of Knights:
Vigilance, fealty, and might.
Hail Takhisis, allegiance to thee
(Hail Takhisis, hail Takhisis, allegiance to thee, Takhisis)
I swear eternally.

 

Service to Thee

Service to thee, unquestioning be,
the Knights of the Crown value loyalty.
Faithful and true, in all that they do,
the Oath and The Measure define.
Devoted to serve, never to swerve,
while aiding the brethren of Paladine.

Power to fight, evil to smite,
the Knights of the Sword battle day or night.
Challenging foes, regardless of woes,
protecting what's right and divine.
Courageously stay, never to stray,
while fighting the battles of Paladine.

Honor to show, good deeds to sow,
the Knights of the Rose help where 'er they go
Selflessly give, righteously live,
to follow a higher design.
Noble and just, their lives they entrust,
to uphold the standards of Paladine.

 

Hush Baby Sleep

Hush baby, sleep baby, nighttime is here
and the moons circle round above in the skies.
The evening is calm and the blanket is soft,
time to rest, time to sleep, close your eyes.

So hush baby, sleep baby, don't stay awake,
let your dreams carry you to a world far away.
A world that is peaceful, a world filled with love
where all children share laughter and play.
So sleep till the dark fades away.

 

Canticle of the Dragon
Part II

Back to Top

Hear the sage as his song descends
like heaven's rain or tears,
and washes the years, the dust of many stories
from the High Tale of the Dragonlance.
For in ages deep, past memory and word,
in the first blush of the world
when the three moons rose from the lap of the forest,
dragons, terrible and great,
made war on this world of Krynn.

Yet out of the darkness of dragons,
out of our cries for 1ight
in the blank face of the black moon soaring,
a banked light flared in Solamnia,
a knight of truth and of power,
who called down the gods themselves
and forged the mighty Dragonlance, piercing the soul
of dragonkind, driving the shade of their wings
from the brightening shores of Krynn.

Thus Huma, Knight of Solamnia, Lightbringer, First Lancer,
followed his light to the foot of the Khalkist Mountains,
to the stone feet of the gods,
to the crouched silence of their temple.
He called down the Lancemakers, he took on
their unspeakable power to crush the unspeakable evil,
to thrust the coiling darkness
back down the tunnel of the dragon's throat.

Paladine, the Great God of Good, shone at the side of Huma,
strengthening the lance of his strong right arm,
and Huma, ablaze in a thousand moons,
banished the Queen of Darkness,
banished the swarm of her shrieking hosts
back to the senseless kingdom of death, where their curses
swooped upon nothing and nothing
deep below the brightening land.

Thus ended in thunder the Age of Dreams
and began the Age of Might,
when Istar, kingdom of light and truth, arose in the east,
where minarets of white and gold
spired to the sun and to the sun's glory,
announcing the passing of evil,
and Istar, who mothered and cradled the long summers of good,
shone like a meteor
in the white skies of the just.

  Yet in the fullness of sunlight
the Kingpriest of Istar saw shadows;
At night he saw the trees as things with daggers, the streams
blackened and thickened under the silent moon.
He searched books for the path of Huma,
for scrolls, signs, and spells
so that he, too, might summon the gods, might find
their aid in his holy aims,
might purge the world of sin.

Then came the time of dark and death
as the gods turned from the world.
A mountain of fire crashed like a comet through Istar,
the city split like a skull in the flames,
mountains burst from once-fertile valleys,
seas poured into the graves of mountains,
the deserts sighed on abandoned floors of the seas,
the highways of Krynn erupted
and became the paths of the dead.

Thus began the Age of Despair.
The roads were tangled.
The winds and the sandstorms dwelt in the husks of cities,
The plains and mountains became our home.
As the old gods lost their power,
we called to the blank sky
into the cold, dividing gray to the ears of new gods.
The sky is calm, silent, unmoving.
We had yet to hear their answer.

Then to the east, to the Sunken City
scarred in its loss of blue light,
came the Heroes, the Innfellows, heirs to the burdens,
out of their tunnels and their arching forests,
out of the lowness of plains, the lowness
of huts in the valleys,
the stunned farms under the warlords and darkness.
They came serving the light,
the covered flames of healing and grace.

From there, pursued by the armies,
the cold and glittering legions, they came
bearing the staff to the arms of the shattered city,
where below the weeds and the birdcall,
below the vallenwood, below forever,
below the riding darkness itself,
a hole in the darkness called to the source of light,
drawing a11 light to the core of light,
to the first fullness of its godly dazzle.

 

Goldmoon's Song

Back to Top

The grasslands are endless,
And summer sings on,
And Goldmoon the princess
Loves a poor man''s son.

Her father the chieftain
Makes long roads between them;
The grasslands are endless, and summer sings on.

The grasslands are waving,
The sky's rim is gray,
The chieftain sends Riverwind
East and away,

To search for strong magic
At the lip of the morning,
The grasslands are waving, the sky's rim is gray.

0 Riverwind, where have you gone?
0 Riverwind, autumn comes on.
I sit by the river
And look to the sunrise,
But the sun rises over the mountains alone.

 

The grasslands are fading,
The summer wind dies,
He comes back, the darkness
Of stones in his eyes.

He carries a blue staff
As bright as a glacier;
The grasslands are fading, the summer wind dies.

The grasslands are fragile,
As yellow as f1ame ,
The chieftain makes mockery
Of Riverwind's claim.

He orders the people
To stone the young warrior:
The grasslands are fragile, as yellow as flame.

The grassland has faded,
And autumn is here.
The girl joins her lover,
The stones whistle near,

The staff flares in blue light
And both of them vanish;
The grasslands are faded, and autumn is here

 

Wedding Song

Back to Top

Goldmoon:
Wars have settled on the North
and dragons ride the skies,
"Now is the time for wisdom,"
say the wise and nearly wise.
"Here in the heart of battle,
the time to be brave is at hand.
Now most things are larger than
the promise of woman to man."

But you and I, through burning plains,
through darkness of the earth,
affirm this world, its people,
the heavens that gave them birth,
the breath that passes between us,
this altar where we stand,
all those things made larger by
the promise of woman to man.

 

Riverwind:
Now in the belly of winter,
when ground and sky are gray,
here in the heart of sleeping snow,
now is the time to say
yes to the sprouting vallenwood
in the green countryside,
for these things are far larger than
a man's word to his bride.

Through these promises we keep,
forged in the yawning night,
proved in the presence of heroes
and the prospect of spring light,
the children will see moons and stars
where now the dragons ride,
and humble things made larger by
a man's word to his bride.

 

Wedding Song
A Reprise

Back to Top

 

But you and I, through the burning plains,
through darkness of the earth,
affirm the world, its people,
the heavens that gave them birth,
the breath that passes between us,
this new home where we stand,
and all those things made larger by
the vows between woman and man.

 

Kender Trailsong

Back to Top
Your one true love's a sailing ship
That anchors at our pier.
We lift her sails, we man her decks,
We scrub the portholes clear;

And yes, our lighthouse shines for her,
And yes, our shores are warm;
We steer her into harbor-
Any port in a storm.

 

The sailors stand upon the docks,
The sailors stand in line,
As thirsty as a dwarf for gold
Or centaurs for cheap wine.

For all the sailors love her,
And flock to where she's moored,
Each man hoping that he might
Go down, all hands on board.

 

Kender Mourning Song

Back to Top
Always before, the spring returned.
The bright world in its cycle spun
In air and flowers, grass and fern,
Assured and cradled by the sun.

Always before, you could explain
The turning darkness of the earth,
And how that dark embraced the rain,
And gave the ferns and flowers birth.

  Already I forget those things,
And how a vein of gold survives
The mining of a thousand springs,
The seasons of a thousand lives.

Now winter is my memory,
Now autumn, now the summer light-
So every spring from now will be
Another season into night.

 

Elvenhome

Back to Top

The Sun
The splendid eye
Of all our heavens
Dives from the day,

And leaves
The dozing sky,
Spangled with fireflies,
Deepening in gray.

Now Sleep,
Our oldest friend,
Lulls in the trees
And calls
Us in.

The Leaves
Give off cold fire,
They blaze into ash
At the end of the year.

And birds
Coast on the winds,
And wheel to the North
When Autumn ends.

The day grows dark,
The seasons bare,
But we

 

Await the sun's
Green fire upon
The trees.

The wind
Dives through the days
By seasons, by moon
Great kingdoms arise.

The breath
Of firefly, of bird,
Of trees, of mankind
Fades in a word.

Now Sleep,
Our oldest friend,
Lulls in the trees
And calls
Us in.

The Age,
The thousand lives
Of men and their stories
Go to their graves.

But We,
The people long
In poem and g1ory
Fade from the song.

 

Song of the Undead

Back to Top
How loud your heart is calling, love,
How dose the darkness at your breast,
How hectic are the rivers, love,
Drawn through your dying wrist.

And love, what heat your -frail skin hides,
As pure as salt, as sweet as death,
And in the dark the red moon rides
The foxfire of your breath.

 

Dwarven Marching Song

Back to Top


Under the hills the heart of the axe
Arises from cinders the still core of the fire,
Heated and hammered the handle an afterthought,
For the hills are forging the first breath of war.
The soldier's heart sires and brothers
The battlefield.
Come back in glory
Or on your shield.

Out of the mountains in the midst of the air,
The axes are dreaming dreaming of rock,
Of metal alive through the ages of ore,
Stone on metal metal on stone.
The soldier's heart contains and dreams
The battlefield.
Come back in glory
Or on your shield.

Fled of iron imagined from the vein,
Green of brass green of copper
Sparked in the fire the forge of the world, Consuming in its dream as it dives into bone.
The soldier's heart lies down, completes
The battlefield.
Come back in glory
Or on your shield.

 

Solamnic Death Chant

Back to Top

Return this man to Huma's breast:
Let him be lost in sunlight,
In the chorus of air where breath is translated;
At the sky's border receive him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies
Have you set your lodgings,
In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires
In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

Grant to him a warrior's rest.
Above our singing, above song itself,
May the ages of peace converge in a day,
May he dwell in the heart of Paladine.

And set the last spark of his eyes
In a fixed and holy place
Above words and the borrowed land too loved
As we recount the ages.

Free from the smothering clouds of war
As he once rose in infancy,
The long world possible and bright before him,
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Upon the torches of stars
was mapped the immaculate glory of childhood;
From that wronged and nestling country,
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Let the last surge of his breath
Perpetuate wine, the attar of flowers;
From the vanguard of love, the last to surrender,
Lord Huma, deliver him.

 

Take refuge in the cradling air
From the heart of the sword descending,
From the weight of battle on battle;
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Above the dreams of ravens where
His dreams first tried a rest beyond changing,
From the yearning for war and the war''s ending,
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Only the hawk remembers death
In a late country; from the dusk,
From the fade of the senses, we are thankful that you,
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Then let his shade to Huma rise
Out of the body of death, of the husk unraveling;
From the lodging of mind upon nothing, we are thankful that you,
Lord Huma, deliver him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies
Have you set your lodgings,
In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires
In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

Return this man to Huma's breast
Beyond the wild, impartial skies;
Grant to him a warrior's rest
And set the last spark of his eyes
Free from the smothering clouds of wars
Upon the torches of the stars.
Let the last surge of his breath
Take refuge in the cradling air
Above the dreams of ravens where
Only the hawk remembers death.
Then let his shade to Huma rise
Beyond the wild, impartial skies.

 

Raistlin's Farewell

Back to Top

Caramon, the gods have tricked the world
In absences, in gifts, and all of us
Are housed within their cruelties. The wit
That was our heritage, they lodged in me,
Enough to see all differences; the light
In Tika"s eye when she looks elsewhere,
The tremble in Laurana's voice when she
Speaks to Tanis, and the graceful sweep
Of Goldmoon's hair at Riverwind''s approach.
They look at me, and even with your mind
I could discern the difference. Here I sit,
A body frail as bird bones.
In return
The gods teach us compassion, teach us mercy,
That compensation. Sometimes they succeed,
For I have felt the hot spit of injustice
Turn through those too weak to fight their brothers
For sustenance or love, and in that feeling
The pain lulled and diminished to a glow,
I pitied as you pitied, and in that
Rose above the weakest of the litter.

You, my brother, in your thoughtless grace,
That special world in which the sword arm spins
The wild arc of ambition and the eye
Gives flawless guidance to the flawless hand,
You cannot follow me, cannot observe
The landscape of cracked mirrors in the soul,
The aching hollowness in sleight of hand.

And yet you love me, simple as the rush
And balance of our blindly mingled blood,
Or as a hot sword arching through the snow;

  It is the mutual need that puzzles you,
The deep complexity lodged in the veins.
Wild in the dance of battle, when you stand,
A shield before your brother, it is then
Your nourishment arises from the heart
Of all my weaknesses.
When I am gone,
Where will you find the fullness of your blood?
Backed in the heart's loud tunnels?
I have heard
The Queen's soft lullaby, Her serenade
And call to battle mingling in the night;
This music calls me to my quiet throne
Deep in Her senseless kingdom.
Dragonlords Thought to bring the darkness into light,
Corrupt it with the mornings and the moons-
In balance is all purity destroyed,
But in voluptuous darkness lies the truth,
The final, graceful dance.
But not for you;
You cannot follow me into the night,
Into the maze of sweetness. For you stand
Cradled by the sun, in solid lands,
Expecting nothing, having lost your way
Before the road becomes unspeakable.

It is beyond explaining, and the words
Will make you stumble. Tanis is your friend,
My little orphan, and he will explain
Those things he glimpses in the shadow's path,
For he knew Kitiara and the shine
Of the dark moon upon her darkest hair,
And yet he cannot threaten, for the night
Breathes in a moist wind on my waiting face.

 

Song of the Ice Reaver

Back to Top
I am the one who brought them back.
I am Raggart I am telling you this.
Snow upon snow cancels the signals of ice
Over the snow the sun bleeds whiteness
In cold light forever unbearable.
And if I do not tell you this
The snow descends on the deeds of heroes
And their strength in my singing
Lies down in a core of frost rising no more
No more as the lost breath crumbles.

Seven they were from the hot lands
(I am the one who brought them back)
Four swordsmen sworn in the North
The elf-woman Laurana
The dwarf from the floes of stone
The kender small-boned as a hawk.
Riding three blades they came to the tunnel
To the throat of the only castle.

Down among Thanoi the old guardians
where their swordsmen carved hot air
Finding tendon finding bone
As the tunnels melted red.
Down upon minotaur upon ice bear
And the swords whistled again
Bright on the corner of madness
The tunnel knee-high in arms
In claws in unspeakable things
As the swordsmen descended
Bright stream freezing behind them.

  Then to the chambers at the castle heart
Where Feal-thas awaited lord of dragons and wolves
Armored in white that is nothing
That covers the ice as the sun bleeds whiteness.
And he called on the wolves the baby-stealers
Who suckled on murder in the lairs of ancestors.
Around the heroes a circle of knives of craving
As the wolves stalked in their master's eye.

And Aran the first to break the circle
Hot wind at the throat of Feal-thas
Brought down and unraveled
In the reel of the hunt perfected.
Brian the next when the sword of the wolf lord
Sent him seeking the warm lands.
All stood frozen in the wheel of razors
All stood frozen except for Laurana.
Blind in a hot light flashing the crown of the mind
Where death melts in a diving sun
She takes up the Ice Reaver
And over the boil of wolves over the slaughter
Bearing a blade of ice bearing darkness
She opened the throat of the wolf lord
And the wolves fell silent as the head collapsed.

The rest is short in the telling.
Destroying the eggs the violent get of the dragons
A tunnel of scales and ordure
Followed into the terrible larder
Followed further followed to treasure.
There the orb danced blue danced white
Swelled like a heart in its endless beating
(They let me hold it I brought them back).
Out from the tunnel blood on blood under the ice
Bearing their own incredible burden
The young knights silent and tattered
They came five now only
The kender last small pockets bulging.
I am Raggart I am telling you this.
I am the one who brought them back.

 

The Knight of the Black Rose

Back to Top
And in the climate of dreams
when you recall her, when the world of the dream
expands, wavers in light,
when you stand at the edge of blessedness and sun,

Then we shall make you remember,
shall make you live again
through the long denial of body

For you were first in the light's hollow,
expanding like a stain, a cancer

For you were the shark in the slowed water
beginning to move

For you were the notched head of a snake,
sensing forever warmth and form

For you were inexplicable death in the crib,
the long house in betrayal

And you were more terrible than this
in a loud alley of visions,
for you passed through unharmed, unchanging

As the women screamed, unraveling silence,
halving the door of the world,
bringing forth monsters

  As a child opened in parabolas of fire
There at the borders
of two lands burning

As the world split, wanting to swallow you back
willing to give up everything
to lose you in darkness.

You passed through these unharmed, unchanging,
but now you see them
strung on our words-on your own conceiving
as you pass from night-to awareness of night
to know that hatred is the calm of philosophers
that its price is forever
that it draws you through meteors
through winter's transfixion
through the blasted rose
through the sharks' water
through the black compression of oceans
through rock-through magma
to yourself-to an abscess of nothing
that you will recognize as nothing
that you will know is coming again and again
under the same rules.

 

Kitiara, of all the Days

Back to Top
Kitiara, of all the days these days
are rocked in dark and waiting, in regret.
The clouds obscure the city as I write this,
delaying thought and sunlight, as the streets
hang between day and darkness. I have waited
past all decision, past the heart in shadows
to tell you this.
In absences you grew
more beautiful, more poisonous, you were
an attar of orchids in the swimming night,
where passion, like a shark drawn down a bloodstream,
murders four senses, only taste preserving,
buckling into itself, finding the blood its own,
a small wound first, but as the shark unravels
the belly tatters in the long throats tunnel.
And knowing this, the night still seems a richness,
a gauntlet of desires ending in peace,
I would still be part of all these allurements,
and to my arms I would take in the darkness,
blessed and renamed by pleasure;
but the light,
the light, my Kitiara, when the sun
spangles the rain-gorged sidewalks, and the oil
from doused lamps rises in the sunstruck water,
splintering the light to rainbows! I arise,
and though the storm resettles on the city,
I think of Sturm, Laurana, and the others,
but Sturm the foremost, who can see the sun
straight through the fog and cloudrack. How could I
abandon these?
And so into the shadow,
and not your shadow but the eager grayness
expecting light, I ride the storm away.
 

How Quiet is the Midnight
Lord Soth's Song

Back to Top
Set aside the buried light
Of candle, torch, and rotting wood,
And listen to the turn of night
Caught in your rising blood.

How quiet is the midnight, love,
How warm the winds where the ravens fly,
Where all the changing moonlight, love,
Pales in your fading eye.

  How loud your heart is calling, love,
How close the darkness at your breast,
How hectic are the rivers, love,
Drawn through your dying wrist.

And love, what heat your frail skin hides,
As pure as salt, as sweet as death,
And in the dark the red moon rides
The foxfire of your breath.

 

Song of the Nine Heroes

Back to Top
From the north came danger, as we knew it would:
In the vanguard of winter, a dragon's dance
Unraveled the land, until out of the forest,
Out of the plains they came, from the mothering earth,
The sky unreckoned before them.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

One from a garden of stone arising,
From dwarf-halls, from weather and wisdom,
Where the heart and mind ride unquestioned
In the untapped vein of the hand.
In his fathering arms, the spirit gathered.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

One from a haven of breezes descending,
Light in the handling air,
To the waving meadows, the kender's country,
Where the grain out of smallness arises itself
To grow green and golden and green again.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, the long land's keeping,
Nurtured in distance, horizons of nothing.
Bearing a blue crystal staff she came, and a burden
Of mercy and light converged in her hand:
Bearing the wounds of the world, she came.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, in the moon's shadow,
Through custom, through ritual, trailing the moon
Where her phases, her wax and her wane, controlled
The tide of his blood, and his warrior's hand
Ascended through hierarchies of space into light.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

One within absences, known by departures,
The dark swordswoman at the heart of the fire:
Her glories the space between words,
The cradlesong recollected in age,
Recalled at the edge of awakening and thought.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

  One in the heart of honor, formed by the sword,
By the centuries' flight of the kingfisher over the land,
By Solamnia ruined and risen, rising again
When the heart ascends into duty.
As it dances, the sword is forever an heirloom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next in a simple light a brother to darkness,
Letting the sword hand try all subleties,
Even the intricate webs of the heart. His thoughts
Are pools disrupted in changing wind-
He cannot see their bottom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next the leader, half-elven, betrayed
As the twining blood pulls asunder the land,
The forests, the worlds of elves and men.
Called into bravery, but fearing for love,
And fearing that, called into both, he does nothing.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The last from darkness, breathing the night
Where the abstract stars hide a nest of words,
Where the body endures the wound of numbers,
Surrendered to knowledge, until, unable to bless,
His blessing falls on the low, the benighted.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

Joined by others they were in the telling:
A graceless girl, graced beyond the graces;
A princess of seeds and saplings, called to the forest;
An ancient weaver of accidents;
Nor can we say who the story will gather.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

From the north came danger, as we knew it would:
In encampments of winter, the dragon''s sleep
Has settled the land, but out of the forest,
Out of the plains they come, from the mothering earth
Defining the sky before them.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

 

The Lark, the Raven, and the Owl

Back to Top
The light in the eastern skies
Is still and always morning,
It alters the renewing air
Into belief and yearning.

And larks rise up like angels,
Like angels larks ascend
From sunlit grass as bright as gems
Into the cradling wind.


The plain light in the east
Contrives out of the dark
The machinery of the day,
The diminished song of the lark.

  But ravens ride the night
And the darkness west,
The wingbeat of their hearts
Large in a buried nest.


Through night the seasons ride into the dark,
The years surrender in the changing lights,
The breath turns vacant on the dusk or dawn
Between the abstract days and nights.
For there is always corpselight in the fields
And corposants above the slaughterhouse,
And at deep noon the shadowy vallenwoods
Are bright at the topmost boughs.

 

Water from Dust
Crysania's Song

Back to Top
Water from dust, and dust rising out of water
Continents forming, abstract as color or light
To the vanished eye, to the touch of Paladine's daughter
Who knows with a touch that the robe is white,
Out of that water a country is rising, impossible
When first imagined in prayer,
And the sun and the seas and the stars invisible
As gods in a code of air.
  Dust from the water, and water arising from dust,
And the robe containing all colors assumed into white,
Into memory, into countries assumed in the trust
Of ever returning color and light,
Out of that dust arises a well spring of tears
To nourish the work of our hands
In forever approaching country of yearning and years,
In due and immanent lands.
 

Funeral Song for Solamnic Knights

Back to Top

Return this man to Huma's breast
Beyond the wild, impartial skies;
Grant him a warrior's rest
And set the last spark of his eyes
Free from the smothering clouds of wars,
Upon the torches of the stars.
Let the last surge of his breath
Take refuge in the cradling air
Above the dreams of ravens, where
Only the hawk remembers death.
Then let his shade to Huma rise,
Beyond the wild, impartial skies.
 

Tas's Song of Courage
Hymn to the Dawn

Back to Top

 

Even the night must fail
For light sleeps in the eyes
And dark becomes dark on dark
Until the darkness dies.

Soon the eye resolves
Complexities of night
Into stillness, where the heart
Falls into fabled light.

  Dark Queen's Reply
Even the night must fail
When light sleeps in the eyes,
When dark becomes dark on dark
And into darkness dies.

Soon the eye dissolves,
Perplexed by the teasing night,
Into a stillness of the heart,
A fable of fallen light.

 

Three Sheets to the Wind

Back to Top
Sing as the spirits move you,
Sing to your doubling eye,
Plain Jane becomes Lovable Lindas
When six moons shine in the sky.

Sing to a sailor's courage,
Sing while the elbows bend,
A ruby port your harbor,
Hoist three sheets to the wind.

  Sing while the heart is cordial,
Sing to the absinthe of cares,
Sing to the one for the weaving road,
And the dog, and each of his hairs.

All of the waitresses love you,
Every dog is your friend,
Whatever you say is just what you mean,
So hoist three sheets to the wind.

 

The Bird Song of Wayreth Forest

Back to Top

 

Easeful the forest, easeful its mansions perfected
Where we grow and decay no longer, our trees ever green,
Ripe fruit never falling, streams still and transparent
As glass, as the heart in repose this lasting day.

Beneath these branches the willing surrender of movement,
The business of birdsong, of love, left on the borders
With all of the fevers, the failures of memory.
Easeful the forest, easeful its mansions perfected.

And light upon light, light as dismissal of darkness,
Beneath these branches no shade, for shade is forgotten
In the warmth of the light and the cool smell of the leaves
Where we grow and decay; no longer, our trees ever green.

 

  Here there is quiet, where music turns in upon silence,
Here at the world's imagined edge, where clarity
Completes the senses, at long last we behold
Ripe fruit never falling, streams still and transparent.

Where the tears are dried from our faces, or settle,
Still as a stream in accomplished countries of peace,
And the traveler opens, permitting the voyage of light
As air, as the heart in repose this lasting day.

Easeful the forest, easful the mansions perfected
Where we grow and decay no longer, our trees ever green,
Ripe fruit never falling, streams still and transparent
As air, as the heart in repose this lasting day.

 

Canticle of the Dragon

Back to Top

 

Hear the sage as his song descends
like heaven's rain or tears,
and washes the years, the dust of many stories
from the High Tale of the Dragonlance.
For in ages deep, past memory and word,
in the first blush of the world
when the three moons rose from the lap of the forest,
dragons, terrible and great,
made war on this world of Krynn.

Yet out of the darkness of dragons,
out of our cries for 1ight
in the blank face of the black moon soaring,
a banked light flared in Solamnia,
a knight of truth and of power,
who called down the gods themselves
and forged the mighty Dragonlance, piercing the soul
of dragonkind, driving the shade of their wings
from the brightening shores of Krynn.

Thus Huma, Knight of Solamnia, Lightbringer, First Lancer,
followed his light to the foot of the Khalkist Mountains,
to the stone feet of the gods,
to the crouched silence of their temple.
He called down the Lancemakers, he took on
their unspeakable power to crush the unspeakable evil,
to thrust the coiling darkness
back down the tunnel of the dragon's throat.

Paladine, the Great God of Good, shone at the side of Huma,
strengthening the lance of his strong right arm,
and Huma, ablaze in a thousand moons,
banished the Queen of Darkness,
banished the swarm of her shrieking hosts
back to the senseless kingdom of death, where their curses
swooped upon nothing and nothing
deep below the brightening land.

  Thus ended in thunder the Age of Dreams
and began the Age of Might,
when Istar, kingdom of light and truth, arose in the east,
where minarets of white and gold
spired to the sun and to the sun's glory,
announcing the passing of evil,
and Istar, who mothered and cradled the long summers of good,
shone 1ike a meteor
in the white skies of the just.

Yet in the fullness of sunlight
the Kingpriest of Istar saw shadows;
At night he saw the trees as things with daggers, the streams
blackened and thickened under the silent moon.
He searched books for the path of Huma,
for scrolls, signs, and spells
so that he, too, might summon the gods, might find
their aid in his holy aims,
might purge the world of sin.

Then came the time of dark and death
as the gods turned from the world.
A mountain of fire crashed like a comet through Istar,
the city split like a skull in the flames,
mountains burst from once-fertile valleys,
seas poured into the graves of mountains,
the deserts sighed on abandoned floors of the seas,
the highways of Krynn erupted
and became the paths of the dead.

Thus began the Age of Despair.
The roads were tangled.
The winds and the sandstorms dwelt in the husks of cities,
The plains and mountains became our home.
As the old gods lost their power,
we called to the blank sky
into the cold, dividing gray to the ears of new gods.
The sky is calm, silent, unmoving.
We have yet to hear their answer.

 

Star of the Time and Turning

Back to Top
The light of that star
is centuries old,
passing through voids
and vacuums to reach us,
and yet to the eye
it is here and now,
as a story's past tense
translates into imminent dreaming.

As the night sky descends,
its influence rising,
those of us waiting
in darkened country
are floating where memory
doubles as dream
and dream blends with waking
until all the tenses
past present and future
collide in mysterious sentences:

One generation
gives way to another-
so say philosophers
calendars seasons
sedimentary rock
and the waning eye:
but against them stands poetry
vision and heart
the wild incandescence
each of us feels
as the present converges
and renames the past
and promises everything
even when nothing
seems our destination,
even when stories
reach an inevitable end.

 

One generation
gives way to another -
a bleak genealogy
fashioned of soil and bone,
and all of our worlds,
both perceived and invented,
trail into chronicle
diminish to legend
in new generations
when you take wife or husband
children you scarcely imagine
come to you, bearing
this book or another.

And then, in the fading
recesses of starlight,
in the earliest pages
of this and all stories,
you will open the book
with those mythical children,
and in showing them country
you traveled one lost
inexpressible spring,
you will find an old sky
of stars half-remembered,
new light will appear
and old lights transfigured,

And providing that all of us
did the task well -
since the first star's inception
since the pen and the compass
since the first of your memories
anchored the past to the present -
all of us then
will repeople the heavens,
what is past what is present
will align in a prospect
of new constellations
and that star, both the same
and forever transformed
has been shining is shining
and will have been shining
eternally here and now.

 

Dragonfire
Or, Ask a Stupid Quest

Back to Top
I. THE EPIC ARGUMENT
By her I bided day by day,
Full of a love I dared not say,
Awestruck, I waited, lost and weak,
Nearly too terrified to speak,
Sorrowing, as I sighed for her,
Frozen by weakness-there we were,
I in the frailty of my heart,
She in her thoughts, alone, apart.

Finally, once she took my hand,
Only to say, "Please understand;
Love at a loss should never be
Stranded as we are. Go from me,
Seeking the courage hearts know best,
Showing it all at my request;
Search for what lovers all require:
Return to me with dragonfire."

2. PREPARATION AND PRAYER
Sighing, she left. Her steps were slow,
Waiting for things I might not know.
Homeward I went, not looking back;
All through the night I filled a pack,
Stocking a bag of cleric's tomes,
Chalices, charms and palindromes,
Weapons of wonder and of war,
Sorcerers' scrolls and kenderlore.

Sunrise I stood beside my bed,
My rucksack high above my head.
Forward I strode, my bed unmade,
Walking the road ahead, I prayed:
"Grant me the cunning of a gnome,
Cold of an elven catacomb,
Courage of knights, and so inspire
My quest to bring her dragonfire."

3. THE SEARCH FOR GUIDANCE
Ready for doom, I shared my quest,
Full of the one whom I loved best,
Telling a shepherd all.
He laughed
And wiped his eyes and said, "Ye're daft.
What do you want with all that gear?
Planning on being gone a year?"
I said, "I seek a dragon, where -"
The shepherd shrugged. "He's just up there.
Left at the lane's-end here, then straight,
Right at the spring and upper gate,
Above the pasture land a way -
I walk it every other day.
Looking for dragonfire? Then go,
Tell him that Ralphie says hello.
Half a day's hike or so, not higher,
I think you'll find your dragonfire."

4. THE QUEST, HOWEVER BRIEF
He and his kinfolk laughed at me.
Turning my face from mockery
Facing my destiny, unsure,
Heedless of toil and sheep manure,
Scaling the slopes alone, unkissed,
Facing the mountains and the mist,
I climbed the ramparts, not to tire
Till I discovered dragonfire.

  5. THE HERO'S REQUEST
Labor and sunset saw me stand
Over the highest pasture land.
Near where a dark and yawning cave
Gaped like a hero's fresh-dug grave.
Nothing at all that I could see, s
canning the dragon-made debris
Would challenge hearts and so inspire
Some proof of love from dragonfire.
Looming above me suddenly,
Awesome, he stood regarding me,
Saying in tones of worldly woe,
"Please tell me you're a peddler. -No?"
I stood before him there and said,
"I love a woman. I aspire
To take for mine your dragonfire."

6. THE SUPERNATURAL RESPONSE
His answer came abrupt and clear:
"Young man, did Ralphie send you here?"
I nodded, mute. The dragon, wise,
Looking at me through golden eyes,
Answered my challenge, all intent:
"But this is hardly what she meant-"
Turning aside his deadly breath,
"-A lover wouldn't seek your death.
Sleep until sunrise, then go down,
Back to your love who used to frown;

Dream of her smiling, through this night,
Dream of her under candle-light,
Dream of her in a moonlit glade,
Dream of her dancing, unafraid,
Dream of her wet with dreams and dew,
Dream of her as she dreams of you.
Dream of her as your heart's desire,
And you will find your dragonfire."

7. THE REVELATION, AND THE END OF THE QUEST
I dreamed of her. I dreamed her dress:
Satin to lace, to less and less,
And then to smiles.
My dream was good,
And when I woke, I understood.
Up in the dawn I leapt and sprang,
Running downhill, I wept and sang
Till I was home, and there I fell,
Right at the door I knew so well,
Opening arms, and bended knee.
To my delight, she ran to me.

We met embracing, lips on lips,
All-tracing eyes and fingertips,
Both of us yielding in attack,
Cloaked in a night discreetly black.
Hearts are the oven of desire

 

The Old Barkeep

Back to Top
BARKEEP'S ADVICE

(chorus)
Drink once, and if you drink twice
Please heed an old barkeep's advice

1. Just after you've finished a flagon,
Don't bet you can harness a dragon,
It will take it amiss
And probably hiss
And will surely demolish the wagon.

(chorus)
2. If bottles of wine make you tender
Do not try to cuddle a kender,
For you'll lose all your gold,
And also I'm told
It is hard to distinguish their gender.

  (chorus)
3. After drinking a glass of the foam,
Do not buy machines from a gnome,
For the levers and gears
Could drive you to tears
And just trust me-don't try this at home.

(chorus)
4. When you're downing a grog on the wharf
Refrain, sir, from drowning a dwarf,
He will shout and resist
And brandish his fist
And make sure that your features all morph.

Drink once, and if you drink twice
Please heed an old barkeep's advice.

 

The Death of Sturm

Back to Top
PRYDERI OF ABANASINIA,
known as the Bard of Ansalon

A knight of noble bearing, stood on battlements gray,
ever forward staring, awaiting his fate this day.
An ancient sword and ancient mail, heirlooms of a father lost,
to succeed and not to fail, but what would be the cost?
To live and to die, for a knighthood falling,
look to the clouds where dragons fly, death is ever calling.

Alone stood the knight, and on came a dragon blue,
he stayed to fight, and for his death he knew.
A dragon's loud shrill cry, his rider calm and steady,
down they charged from the sky, at the knight standing ready.
His sword swung low, but his foe did not relent,
and the spear struck a blow, that through his body went.
An elf maiden's grief like clouds o'er the sun,
a sadness that will not be brief and sorrow that will never be done.

 

  The highlord speaks, and the elf stands still,
the dragon shrieks, but does not kill.
As Evil flies away, the elf holds the spear,
that killed the knight this day, that killed one so dear.
More gaping is the wound, left by words of hate,
she finds her heart is doomed, that He is lost to fate.

She stands on battlements gray, in the chill of winter night,
sorrowed by that day, saddened by her plight.
Falling down her cheek, drops a single tear,
the cold wind creaks, and blows away her fear.
Like ice in summer's light, like dragons of a winter night.

 

Lament for Lost Gods

Back to Top

 

Who will look down on us, who will intercede?
Who will answer questions, help in time of need?
Who will guide our fairing forth to near or far?
Who will take an interest in flood, in storm, in war?

The gods we knew are vanished, nevermore to still the pleas
Of aching voices so lone, so pained, so shrill. Is there any hope left?
Will there soon appear a dawn undimmed by sorrow,
A dawn unmasked by fear

When we can be encouraged by guardians in the skies?
Who sing to us of succor, who promise us a scryre of things eternal
All alone, abandoned we cry pleading for one bright hand
Owned by an immortal when gods return to Krynn.

 

Dwarven Forge Song

Back to Top

 

Metal rings beneath my hammer,
Steel takes shape on anvil cold.
Fire glows bright with sighs from bellows,
Gold, silver bronze, all these to mold.

Metal sings beneath my hammer,
Star bright sparks rain down and fade.
Quench the blank in fog draped water,
Draw fire again and none afraid.

Become the worship of our minds,
Become the kinship of one vigil.
All of Krynn our work behold.
All of Krynn our work behold!

 

 

Precious gemstones glint and glimmer
Fastened 'round a shadowed throat.
Shining from a wrist, a finger,
Bounty from a wealthy world.

Metal sings beneath our hammers,
Wax drips softly from our molds.
Reorx's gifts embraced by dwarf-kind,
Jewel and chalice, ring and sigil,

Become the worship of our minds,
Become the kinship of one vigil.
All of Krynn our work behold.
All of Krynn our work behold!

 

Gully Dwarf Healing Song

Back to Top

Be there strings of greeney goop in your head like tides?
Belly doing flop-flops? Nose red enough to hide?
Rat it was some overaged when you cared to dine?
Got a good cure sure enough, soon you be all fine!

Lizard Cure, Lizard Cure, it sure make you whole.
Get better, inhale scent, should be you only goals.
Do not mind its cold dead eyes staring at you chin.
Just think what it do for you, make you right again!

Stew is fighting back tonight? Shoulders caught a shiver?
Mage he threw a spell on you? Lightning left you quiver?
Crossed a dragon's path again, skin burned, muscles sore?
Got the thing to fix you up: stand still, get the cure!

Lizard Cure, Lizard Cure, it sure make you whole.
Get better, inhale scent, should be you only goals.
Do not mind its cold dead eyes staring at you chin.
Just think what it do for you, make you right again!

 
Hail danced dimples on you head? Fall smack down in slime?
Knight he knocked big hole in you? Be all right in time!
Got huge curse laid on you tail? Toe swole big as tree?
Do not fret, the Lizard Cure'll sure soon set you free!

Lizard Cure, Lizard Cure, it sure make you whole.
Get better, inhale scent, should be you only goals.
Do not mind its cold dead eyes staring at you chin.
Just think what it do for you, make you right again!

Pimples on you earlobes, blue fungus on you toes,
Ouch among you insides, sick from gods may know.
Gotta get soon better, important things to do.
Stand real still, the Lizard Cure gonna take care a you!

Lizard Cure, Lizard Cure, it sure make you whole.
Get better, inhale scent, should be you only goals.
Do not mind its cold dead eyes staring at you chin.
Just think what it do for you, make you right again!

 

Hail to Mount Nevermind

Back to Top

Hail to Mount Nevermind, beautiful mountain,
Storehouse to wonderful things past accountin'
Long may you stand, neither crumbled nor rotten
(There was another verse here we've forgotten)
But nevermind, Nevermind
Where the passage of days is both noble and kind!


 

The Thinking Song

Back to Top

If thought is the mother
of all good action,
Then what is the child
of plain distraction?
Think! Pay attention!
Let your mind change! Make everyday things
complicated and strange! There are fish to be fried,
but first to be caught:
So spread wide the nets
and get tangled in thought!
 

Knights of the Fourth Brigade

Back to Top
When we're marching off in to danger,
To the places evil may range here
To protect a loved one or stranger,

We're the Fourth Brigade,
To protect is our duty as The Measure doth decree,
We'll serve with faith and loyalty
Bringing Knights of the Crown glory.

When we don our swords and our armor
To protect a king or a farmer,
Or defend a castle from harm here,

 
We're the Fourth Brigade,
To protect is our duty as The Measure doth decree,
We'll serve with faith and loyalty
Bringing Knights of the Crown glory.

Evil dragon fear will not scare us
Nor the lure of evil ensnare us
For our oath of honor prepares us

We're the Fourth Brigade,
To protect is our duty as The Measure doth decree,
We'll serve with faith and loyalty
Bringing Knights of the Crown glory.

 

Pub Song of Northern Ergoth

Back to Top

In this place of friendship and laughter,
Where the music sounds to the rafters.
Let no glass be empty hereafter,
As we sing this song.

Let us lift our mugs of ale.
To good times we'll give a hail,
And lift a glass and tell the tale
Of the friends who are gathered here.

All the liquor here is the strong kind.
If you drink enough you will soon find,
That you've lost your cares and you don't mind,
If you stay till dawn.

Let us lift our mugs of ale.
To good times we'll give a hail,
And lift a glass and tell the tale
Of the friends who are gathered here.

Patrons here are stout and quite able,
To drink Reorx under the table.
Tales of our deed spread like a fable
Across Ansalon.

  Let us lift our mugs of ale.
To good times we'll give a hail,
And lift a glass and tell the tale
Of the friends who are gathered here.

All the serving girls are quite pretty,
And they all seem willing and witty.
There's no better place in the city
Open all night long.

Let us lift our mugs of ale.
To good times we'll give a hail,
And lift a glass and tell the tale
Of the friends who are gathered here.

To the good times here we'll sing our praise,
Just as long as somebody else pays!
Then our glasses once again we'll raise,
As we sing along!

Let us lift our mugs of ale.
To good times we'll give a hail,
And lift a glass and tell the tale
Of the friends who are gathered here.

 
Designed and Maintaned by Breaga Silverwolfe ©2008
email krynnwoman@gmail.com
Home - Products - Reading Orders- Reviews -
Songs
- Quotes - Artwork
Krynnwoman.com does not publish any of the products listed here. Though every effort has been made to ensure that all information is accurate, Krynnwoman.com cannot guarantee the accuracy of these listings. All works listed herein are copyright ©Wizards of the Coast and/or TSR. Product graphics are representational only and are copyright ©Wizards of the Coast and/or TSR.