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When the wizard's held at bay and the warrior mired in melee
And the cleric kneeling over the dead and maimed
Take care, my son, for the vicar bears a gilded tongue
And a hex that will whisk you to the grave

Beware the healer
He can cause light wounds
May his hammer and flail be of little avail
And may your sword strike true

For when the healer
Sets his gaze on you
With the rage of the gods, with a flourish and nod
Your flesh, it breaks in two

In your travels, on your quest, may your party find some rest
In an inn, in the forest, in an abbey
Take care you don't cross the gods or the brothers of the cloth
For their mercy is tempered with disdain

Beware the healer
He can cause light wounds
May his hammer and flail be of little avail
And may your sword strike true

For when the healer
Sets his gaze on you
With the wrath of the gods, with a flourish and nod
Your flesh, it breaks in two

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.