The road was long and the road was hard, And the sky was cold and grey: The dead white moon was a frozen shard In the dim dawn of day: But thief and harlot, king and guard Warrior, wizard, knave and bard Rode with me all the way.
The wind was sharp as a whetted knife As it blew from the wet salt seas; The storm wind stirred to a ghostly life The gaunt black skeletal trees: But I drank the foaming wine of life Wine of plunder and lust and strife Down to the bitter lees.
A boy, from the savage north I came To cities of silk and sin. With torch and steel, in blood and flame, I won what a man may win: Aye, gambled and won at the Devil's game Splendor and glory and glittering flame And mocked at Death's skull-grin.
And there were foemen to fight and slay And friends to love and trust: And crowns to conquer and toss away And lips to taste with lust: And songs to keep black nights at bay And wine to swill to the break of day What matter the end be dust?
I've won my share of your gems and gold They crumble into clods: I've gorged on the best that life can hold: And the Devil take the odds: The grave is deep and the night is cold The world's a skull-full of stinking mould And I laugh at your little gods!
The lean road slunk through a blasted land Where the earth was parched and black. But we were a merry, jesting band Who asked no easier track: Rogue and reaver and firebrand And life rode laughing at my right hand And Death rode at my back.
The road was dusty and harsh and long Crom, but a man gets dry! I'm old and weary and Death is strong But flesh was born to die: Hai, Gods! But it was a merry throng Rode at my side with jest and song Under an empty sky.
I've heard fat, cunning priestlings tell How damned souls writhe and moan: That paradise they can buy and sell For gold and gold alone: To the flames with scripture and priest as well I'll stride down the scarlet throat of hell And dice for the Devil's throne!
I faced life boldly and unafraid Should I flinch as Death draws near? Life's but a game Death and I have played Many a wearisome year: Hai! to the gallant friends I made Slave and swordsman and lissome maid I begrudge no foot of the road I strayed The road which endeth HERE!