Whether with new recruits, or seasoned knights,
They've lost all count of journeys far from home.
Sword raised to mantes, starsuckers and blights,
A trail of endless combat do they roam.
Beneath the stars, the sun and Mother Moon
Another group of fighters seeks their gold.
And ev'ry warrior of this rogue platoon
Is equal parts avaricious and bold.
Each bonecrusher, each swordsman, every man
Has only eyes for gold; wealth is his plan!

And after every fight,
The wealth is handed out
Amid the dying screaming
Of the victims of the bout.

One, two, three...
"More bones to crunch..."
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...
"To arms, lads! To arms!"
Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five...

The campaign carries on, through hill and dale.
Through Undervault and Caoimhe Dell they charge.
Hither and yon, the warriors prevail.
The body count and winnings both enlarge.
The orcs of Old Shallach are felled with glee;
The beasts of Icewynd Dale all lie in death.
All for the purpose of gold filigree
Do these creatures (and more) meet their last breath.
The squad grows stronger with each foe they rout;
And quicker still comes each new payment's count:

And as each coin is giv'n
Sneaking suspicion grows.
The wonder if the count's fair;
Only one among them knows.

Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five...
"Could've sworn we made more last time."
Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two...
"Never was good with numbers, myself, but..."
Eighty, eighty-one, eighty-two...

Another campaign starts; the squad is formed.
Each member battle-hardened, to a man.
A veteran of a thousand strongholds stormed,
Each wonders if the money fits the plan.
The leader stands before his rowdy crew
And bids them calm their worries, ease their ire.
Which is a hard thing for them all to do -
The weapons that he bears, much gold require.
Their armaments come forth, both sword and greed -
The mutiny, in full, does then proceed!

And as the Captain falls,
The turncoats gather round
Behold! A cornucopia
Of missing gold is found!

One hundred, two hundred, three hundred...
"Hands off! This is my share!"
Eight hundred, nine hundred, one th--
"Not so fast; this was my idea! Split it sixty-forty!"
"Over my dead body!"

One...