| Charms and bags and graveyard stones, witch bottles protects our homes
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| Minerals of many, many kinds — Things we dig for in our mines
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| Now the element of fire — From candle glow to wild desire
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| They walk in it and do not burn — It seals the spell from which they yearn
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| The tide is rolling on but they will never turn
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| To burn the orks and skeletons — Is just for what they yearn
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| From the mountains the wizards come
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| But no all at once just one by one
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| With powers in the coats they wear
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| Skin and feather, fur and hair
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| Relics of power and filled full of wonder
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| Those who slithered, pattered, thundered
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| Stones upon which mysterious symbols show
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| And lava, fire, spit taken from volcano
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| Spells to aid them in their quest — Combining them of course is always the best
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| And when with magic scrolls thay are steady — To fight in battle they’ll be
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| ready
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| The tide is rolling on — With demon ships across the shore
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| The wizards fight until the tide should roll no more
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| Turn around look at the field — Holding nothing but my wand and my shield
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| Those demons are amazed and leave our land alone |