| We’re merry men of Skyrim
|
| So sturdy and so stout
|
| When the day is done
|
| When it’s time for fun
|
| We’ll drink and sing and shout!
|
| You weak livered milk drinkers
|
| Can let your throats run dry
|
| Cause there’s just one drink
|
| That we will sink
|
| Until the day we die
|
| Drinking mead in the halls of Whiterun
|
| The maidens and the men!
|
| We swig our brew
|
| Until we spew
|
| Then we fill our mugs again!
|
| You can keep your filthy Skooma
|
| It makes our bellies bleed
|
| Cause when we raise our flagon
|
| To another dead dragon
|
| There is just one drink we need…
|
| NORD MEAD!
|
| Chug a mug of mead
|
| And another mug of mead
|
| Chug another mug of mead
|
| Till you fall down
|
| Chug a mug of mead
|
| And another mug mead
|
| Chug another mug of mead, warrior!
|
| After the long hard days
|
| Of hunting and of war
|
| Our throats are tired and thirsty
|
| And our bodies drenched in gore
|
| But we won’t spend our evenings
|
| Feeling tired and feeling spent
|
| We perk right up when we breathe in That wholesome honey scent
|
| That Cyrodilic Brandy
|
| Too fruity for these tongues
|
| You can keep your fancy alto wine
|
| It tastes like horker dung!
|
| Balmora Blue tastes great to you
|
| But here we like it plain
|
| Just fill my mug
|
| With the mighty jug
|
| Of honey, heart and grain
|
| Drinking mead in the halls of Whiterun
|
| The maidens and the men!
|
| We swig our brew
|
| Until we spew
|
| Then we fill our mugs again!
|
| You can keep your filthy Skooma
|
| It makes our bellies bleed
|
| Cause when we raise our flagon
|
| To another dead dragon
|
| There is just one drink we need…
|
| NORD MEAD!
|
| Chug a mug of mead
|
| And another mug of mead
|
| Chug another mug of mead
|
| Till you fall down
|
| Chug a mug of mead
|
| And another mug mead
|
| Chug another mug of mead, warrior! |