Sure, he lacks the taste of sin,
But you should eat the Paladin.
His sacred glory’s bright within—
The yummy, yummy Paladin.
If purity’s a little lacking,
The Paladin will soon get cracking.
To Poverty he’s surely vowed—
Though Vorpal Swords he’s quite allowed.
Halfway Mage, halfway Priest,
He’s a sorcerous tank, at least.
A bastion of purity;
A ball of insecurity.
He dances on the head of a pin,
So go and munch the Paladin.
He’s why I drink so much Gin;
someone eat the Paladin.
His blood is shiny, sunlight-sweet
His brawny arms are Grade A meat,
Tastier than smith or farmer,
You can broil him right inside his armour!
He’s so sure he’ll always win,
Until you eat the Paladin.
Only one thing stops that idiotic grin:
Quick, quick: Eat the Paladin!
Who’s that always doing good?
Oh, that’s the rogue, Robin Hood.
Who’s that taking all the credit?
It’s the Paladin. (Yes, I said it.)
You might have seen that I’ve a grievance:
I’m wary of those who show off believance.
The Paladin’s Good’s so ostentatious
It inspires me to be voracious.
Maybe he’s everything that he is claimed,
But if he is, he should be ashamed.
For all who live by Nature’s laws
Are partly defined by our flaws.
If you think your virtue’s all-abiding,
I bring this slightly awful tiding:
You make virtue seem quite unfulfillin’;
You’re way I chose to be a Villain.
He’s certain that he’ll always win,
That’s why you should eat the Paladin,
Because his surprise tastes like yummy cinnamon,
eat the Paladin.
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities, put on events, and make stories come into being. I also tweet a lot over @darklordjournal.