BASH 'EM ALL

By Sir Bela of Eastmarch

Bash 'em all, bash 'em all,
Bash the long and the short and the tall.
Bash all the fighters across the head,
The neck and the ribs, till you've stretched 'em out dead.
And we're saying good-bye to mead halls
As over the Eric we crawl.
There'll be no advantage in splint or in bandage,
So cheer up, my lads, bash 'em all.

Marshals, they won't bother me.
Marshals, they won't bother me.
I'll go stand quietly off to one side,
Nursing the bruises all over my hide.
And we're saying good-bye to mead halls
As over the Eric we crawl.
There'll be no advantage in splint or in bandage,
So cheer up, my lads, bash 'em all.

Tune: 'Bless 'em All'