Folk songs for Azeroth 2

A nice, simple, straightforward sea shanty. Just had to change one name. Enjoy!


—Roll, Boys, Roll!—

Sally Brown, she’s the gal for me boys!
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
Sally Brown she’s the gal for me, boys!
Way high, Miss Sally Brown

It’s down to Booty Bay to see Sally Brown boys!
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
Down to Booty Bay to see Sally Brown boys!
Way high, Miss Sally Brown

She’s LOVELY on the foreyard, an’ she’s lovely down BELOW boys!
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
She’s lovely 'cause she loves me, that’s all I WANT TO know boys!
Way high, Miss Sally Brown

Ol’ Captain Baker, how do you STORE yer cargo
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
Some I stow for’ward, boys, an’ some I stow aft’ward
Way high, Miss Sally Brown

Fourty fathoms or more below boys!
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
There’s fourty fathoms or MORE BELOW boys.
Way high, Miss Sally Brown

Oh, way high ya, an’ up she rises
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
Way high ya, and the blocks is different SIZES
Way high, Miss Sally Brown

Oh, one more pull, don’t ya hear the mate a-bawlin?
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
Oh, one more pull, that’s the end of ALL the hawlin’
Way high, Miss Sally Brown

Sally Brown she’s the gal for me boys!
Roll Boys! Roll boys roll!
Sally Brown she’s the gal for me, boys!
Way high, Miss Sally Brown


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Another modified shanty. Got a little bit creative with this one. Enjoy!

—Let the Tramline Run—

Oh, the smartest transport ye can find,
Ah Hey! Ah Ho! Are you most done?
Is the Stormwind to Ironforge Tramline!
So! Clear away the track and let the tramline run!

(Chorus)
To me Hey, Rig-a-jig, and a jaunting run!
Ah Hey! Ah Ho! Are you most done?
With Liza Lee all on my knee,
So! Clear away the track and let the tramline run!

Oh the prettiest sight that you can see
Ah Hey! Ah Ho! Are you most done?
Is Liza Lee all on my knee
So! Clear away the track and let the tramline run!

(Repeat chorus)

Oh Liza Lee will you be mine?
Ah Hey! Ah Ho! Are you most done?
I’ll dress you up in silk so fine
So! Clear away the track and let the tramline run!

(Repeat chorus)

Oh when I get home again from sea
Ah Hey! Ah Ho! Are you most done?
Young Liza Lee will marry me
So! Clear away the track and let the tramline run!

(Repeat chorus)

Oh when I get home and stay on shore
Ah Hey! Ah Ho! Are you most done?
And that to sea I’ll go no more
So! Clear away the track and let the tramline run!

(Repeat chorus)


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I love this thread, the songs are great!!

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Here’s another sea shanty. Minimum changes needed. Enjoy!


—Don’t Forget Your Old Shipmate—

Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack.
Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack.
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Since we sailed from Boralus, four months gone, or nigh, Jack.
Was there ever chummies, now, such as you and I, Jack?
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

We have worked the self-same gun, quarterdeck division.
Sponger I and loader you, through the whole commission.
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Oftentimes have we laid out, toil nor danger fearing,
Tugging out the flapping sail to the weather earring.
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

When the middle watch was on, and the time went slow, boy,
Who could choose a rousing stave, who like Jack or Joe, boy?
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

There she swings, an empty hulk, not a soul below now.
Number seven starboard mess misses Jack and Joe now.
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

But the best of friends must part, fair or foul the weather.
Hand yer flipper for a shake, now a drink together.
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!


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Here’s a fun drinking song. Required no changes. Enjoy!

—The Rattlin’ Bog—

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

Well in the bog there was a hole,
A rare hole and a rattlin’ hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

Well in that hole there was a tree,
A rare tree and a rattlin’ tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

on that tree there was a branch,
A rare branch and a rattlin’ branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

on that branch there was a limb,
A rare limb and a rattlin’ limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

Well on that limb there was a nest,
A rare nest and a rattlin’ nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

Now in that nest there was a bird,
A rare bird and a rattlin’ bird,
And the bird in the nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
down in the valley-o.

Ho, ho, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

In that bird there was an egg,
A rare egg and a rattlin’ egg,
And the egg on the bird,
And the bird in the nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.

In that egg there was a bird,
A rare bird and a rattlin’ bird,
And the bird on the egg,
And the egg on the bird,
And the bird in the nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the hole,
And the hole in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.

Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.


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Love this thread, we can’t let it die :heart:

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This was a bit of a weird song to adapt since it’s about the miner’s strikes of the late 19th century, and I don’t know if workers unions are really a thing in Warcraft :sweat_smile:

So instead I’d like to imagine it’s about a particularly unscrupulous man who took advantage of his colleagues, backstabbing, leaving people trapped underground, everything he could do to get himself ahead, finally getting his comeuppance, and he becomes a sort of folklore figure among other miners, and a boogeyman story they tell their children at night.

Either way, enjoy!

—Blackleg Miner—

It’s in the evening after dark
When the blackleg miner creeps to work,
With his moleskin pants and dirty shirt,
There goes the blackleg miner.

Well, he grabs his duds and down he goes,
To hew the coal that lies below,
There’s not a woman in this town row
Will look at the blackleg miner.

Oh, this town is a terrible place,
They rub wet clay in the blackleg’s face,
And around the heaps they run a footrace
To catch the blackleg miner.

And even down close to the mine,
Across the way they stretch a line
To catch the throat, to break the spine
Of the dirty blackleg miner.

They grabbed his duds, his picks as well,
And they hoy them down the pit of hell,
Down you go, we pay you well,
You dirty blackleg miner.

It’s in the evening after dark
That the blackleg miner creeps to work,
With his moleskin pants and dirty shirt,
There goes the blackleg miner.

So work hard and honest, don’t you stray,
Don’t wait 'til your dying day
For that may not be far away,
You dirty blackleg miner.


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Here’s an adaptation of a Fisherman’s Friends song (I know, what a shocker).

I’d like to imagine this one being composed by sailors after serving on board a gnomish submarine or warship for the first time and they were completely dumbfounded by all the technology and gizmos, and they start to wonder how long it’ll be until they’re all gradually replaced as real sailors are needed less and less…

Required only minimum changes. Enjoy!

—Shanty Man—

Now gnomish ships carry mighty funny gear
And away, get away, you shanty man!
Ain’t seen a halyard for many’s a year
And they got no use for a shanty man

Slick new fittings are all your style
And away, get away, you shanty man!
All very clever, but they just ain’t right
And they got no use for a shanty man

(Chorus)
Shanty man, oh shanty man!
Who’s got a berth for a shanty man?
Sing you a song of a world gone wrong
When they got no use for a shanty man

Levers to pull and buttons to press
And away, get away, you shanty man!
Real-life sailors who need 'em less
And they got no use for a shanty man

Floating machine dressed as a ship
And away, get away, you shanty man!
Skippered and crewed by a microchip
And they got no use for a shanty man

(Repeat chorus)

Soon they’ll be sailin’ by remote control
And away, get away, you shanty man!
That’ll be pleasin’ for the owner’s soul
And they got no use for a shanty man

Send the ships from here to there
And away, get away, you shanty man!
While sat upon our arses in a comfy chair
And they got no use for a shanty man

(Repeat chorus)

New-fangled gear’s no use to you
And away, get away, you shanty man!
When you’re off Northrend with your faces blue
And they got no use for a shanty man

Then’s the time you rue the day
And away, get away, you shanty man!
You sent your shanty man away
And they got no use for a shanty man

(Repeat chorus)

A sailor’s life it once was hard
And away, get away, you shanty man!
While laid out aloft on a topsail yard
And they got no use for a shanty man

Now it don’t matter if the wind blow high
And away, get away, you shanty man!
You can take force ten with your feet still dry
And they got no use for a shanty man

(Repeat chorus)

Listen at night that you might hear
And away, get away, you shanty man!
A ghostly sound on a cool night air
And they got no use for a shanty man

Was it a ghost from a distant past
And away, get away, you shanty man!
Or just a breeze in the radar mast?
And they got no use for a shanty man

(Repeat chorus x2)


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Okay, so this one’s a translation of an ancient Welsh battle poem and lullaby. It’s possibly the oldest surviving folk song in the British Isles.

I’d like to interperate it as an ancient Kaldorei song, because we all know Tolkien used Welsh as the core of his Elven languages, and seriously, you listen to this and tell me you couldn’t imagine a language so beautiful coming from an elf.

Enjoy!

—Pais Dinogad (Dinogad’s Smock)—

Pais Dinogad vreith vreith.
So grwyn balaot ban wreith.
Chwit! Chwit! Chwidogeith.
Gochanwn gochenyn wythgeith.
Pan elei dy dat ty e helya;
Llath ar y ysgwyd llory eny law.
Ef gelwi gwn gogyhwc.
“Giff! Gaff, dhaly, dhaly, dhwg, dhwg!”

Ef lledi bysc yng corwc.
Mal ban llad. llew llywywg.
Pan elei dy dat ty e vynyd.
Dydygai ef penn ywrch penn gwythwch pen hyd.
Penn grugyar vreith o venyd.
Penn pysc o rayadyr gogledd y fro
Or sawl yt gyrhaedei dy dat ty ae gicwein
O wythwch a llewyn a llwyuein.
Nyt anghei oll ny uei oradein.

—Translation—

Dinogad’s smock, speckled, speckled,
I made from the skins of martens.
Whistle, whistle, whistly
we sing, the eight slaves sing.
When your father used to go to hunt,
With his shaft on his shoulder and his club in his hand,
He would call his speedy beasts,
“Giff, Gaff, catch, catch, fetch, fetch!”,

He would kill a fish in a coracle,
As a lion kills game
When your father used to go to the mountains,
He would bring back roebuck, wild pig, stag,
Speckled grouse from the mountain,
Fish from the waterfall of the northern vale
Whatever your father would hit with his spear,
Whether boar or wild cat, or lynx,
Nothing that was without wings would escape.


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A classic that needs no introduction.

—Drunken Sailor—

What will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we do with a drunken sailor?
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the morning!

Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the morning!

Put him in a long boat till his sober
Put him in a long boat till his sober
Put him in a long boat till his sober
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the morning!

Stick him in a scupper with a hosepipe bottom
Stick him in a scupper with a hosepipe bottom
Stick him in a scupper with a hosepipe bottom
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the morning!

Put him in the bed with the captains daughter
Put him in the bed with the captains daughter
Put him in the bed with the captains daughter
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the morning!

Tie him to a rope and then keelhaul him
Tie him to a rope and then keelhaul him
Tie him to a rope and then keelhaul him
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Way hay and up she rises
Early in the morning!


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A sad song just in time for christmas. Took a little rejigging and some map-searching for appropriate name changes, but I managed to throw something together. Hope you enjoy!


—The Sheep are Beneath the Snow—

Today a deep snowfall, last night a sharp frost
Oh, the young lambs are living, while the old sheep are lost
“Oh, arise you, my shephards! And away to the hills!
For the old sheep are dying, and the snow gathers still”

The master of the farmstead lay sick in his bed
With the cry of lost ewes like a fire in his head
“Oh, arise you, my shephards! And away to the hills!
For the old sheep are dying, and the snow gathers still”

Said the master of the farmstead “I am sick an alone
My sheep cry for succor, but my men yield them none
Oh, arise you, my shephards! And away to the hills!
For the old sheep are dying, and the snow gathers still”

“I have sheep at Kharanos, I have goats near Frostmane
On the cliffs above Amberstill, my ewes go astray,
Oh, arise you, my shephards! And away to the hills!
For the old sheep are dying, and the snow gathers still”

Then out went the shephards in darkness and dread
And high on the mountain, they found the sheep dead
For the whole flock lay smothered in a drift on the hill
And over their bodies, the snow gathered still

Said the master of the farmstead “My sheep cried in vain,
And while I lay here helpless, none heeded their pain,
And so they all perished for want of your skill”
And over their bodies, the snow gathers still


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A song about a ship’s captain who comes home to discover his daughter pregnant from one of his own crew. Song required no changes at all, Enjoy!


—Tom the Barber—

As I looked over the castle wall
To see what I could see,
There I saw my father’s ship
Come a-sailing home to me.
Come a-sailing home to me.

“What’s the matter, my daughter Jane,
That you look both pale and wan,
Have you had some sore sickness
Or been lying with some young man?
Or been lying with some young man?”

“No, I’ve had no sore sickness
Been lying with no young man,
But I have a grief to my very, very heart
That you’ve been so long at sea.
That you’ve been so long at sea.”

Then she’s took off her gown of green,
She’s hanged it against the wall.
Her apron strings they would not untie
For she was three quarters gone.
For she was three quarters gone.

“Was it to a noble gentleman
Or to one of low degree?
Or is it to some jolly, jolly tar
That sails in along of me?
That sails in along of me?”

“T’was to no noble gentleman
Nor to one of low degree;
But it was to some jolly, jolly tar
Who sails in along of thee,
Who sails along of thee.”

So he’s called up his merry, merry men,
By one, by two, by three,
And Tom the Barber that used to come first,
Oh the last to come in was he.
Oh the last to come in was he.

Ogh and in came Tom the Barber bold,
He was dressed all in silk.
His eyes did shine like morning sun,
His skin it was like the milk,
Oh, his skin was like the milk.

“Oh Will you marry my daughter Jane?
Will you take her by the hand?
Will you prove a father unto that child,
Be heir to all my land?
Be heir to all my land?”

“Oh yes, I’ll marry your daughter Jane,
And I’ll take her by the hand.
And I’ll prove a father unto that child,
But I value not your land,
No, I value not your land.

For I have gold and silver stored,
I’ve houses and I’ve land.
If it were not for your daughter Jane,
No I’d never have been your man,
No I’d never have been your man.”


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A beautiful song that required no changes at all. Enjoy.


—Down the Moore—

One morn in May when fields were gay,
Serene and pleasant was the weather,
I spied a lass and a very bonny lass,
She was sweeping the dew from among the heather
Down the moor.
In among the heather,
And o’er the moor, and through the heather
I spied a lass and a very bonny lass
She was sweeping the dew from among the heather
Down the moor.

Bare footed was she, but comely dressed
And her head bore neither hat nor feather,
With her skirt tucked neatly round her waist
As she tripped through the blooming heather
Down the moor.
In among the heather,
And o’er the moor, and through the heather
With her skirt tucked neatly round her waist
As she tripped through the blooming heather
Down the moor.

I stepped up to this fair young maid,
“Come tell me, love, come tell me hither.”
She answered me, “Down by the bonny burn side
I am herding all my ewes together
Down the moor.”
In among the heather,
And o’er the moor, and through the heather
She answered me, “Down by the bonny burn side
I am herding all my ewes together
Down the moor.”

So I courted her that live-long day,
My heart as light as any feather,
Until the beams of the red-setting sun
Come slanting a-down in among the heather
Down the moor.
In among the heather,
And o’er the moor, and through the heather
Until the beams of the red-setting sun
Come slanting a-down in among the heather
Down the moor.

She said “Young man, I must away,
My ewes are straying from each other.
But I’m as loath for to part with you
As the bonnie wee lambs are to part their mother
Down the moor.
In among the heather,
And o’er the moor, and through the heather
But I’m as loath for to part with you
As the bonnie wee lambs are to part their mother
Down the moor”

Then up she got and away did run,
And her name and place I did not gather.
But if I was the king I would make her a queen,
The bonnie little lass I met in among the heather
Down the moor.
In among the heather,
And o’er the moor, and through the heather
But if I was the king I would make her me queen,
The bonnie little lass I met in among the heather
Down the moor.


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I’ve been in a very emotional mindset recently. So I just had a flash of inspiration to share something a little more soul-crushing. This one required a few changes. Enjoy.

—Song of the Boatmen—

Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!

Now we fell the stout birch tree,
Now we pull hard: one, two, three.
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Now we pull hard: one, two, three.
Now we pull hard: one, two, three.

Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!

As we walk along the shore,
To the sun, we sing our song.
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
To the sun, we sing our song.
To the sun, we sing our song.

Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!

Oh, you, mighty, mother river,
Mighty stream so deep and wide.
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Mighty, mighty, mother river.
Mighty, mighty, mother river.

Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more!

Yo, heave ho…
Yo, heave ho…


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Now this one I had to get creative with. It’s a song written in Scots Gaelic, which I would like to think Dwarvish sounds similar to in WoW, so I looked up a few translations for some words I changed. Also, despite all the searches I did, I couldn’t find the lyrics for the first verse.

But yeah, the idea being this would be a more romantic Dwarvern song. Enjoy!

—Mo Ghleannan Taobh Loch Modan (My Little Valley By Loch Modan)—

(First verse missing)

(Chorus)
O ‘s truagh nach robh mis’ ann an gleannan mo ghaoil
Oir tha beannachadh na spioradan’ agus sith ann
Tha na h-aibhnean ‘s na coilltean as bòidhch’ air an t-saoghal
Ann an gleannan mo ghaoil taobh Loch Modan.

Fàile cùbhraidh an fhraoich tigh’nn thar mullach nam beann
Agus chì thu’n damh ruadh air an fhrìth ann
‘S ged shiùbhladh tu ar fearann chan fhaic thu aon ghleann
Tha cho boidheach rim’ ghleann taobh Loch Modan.

(Repeat Chorus)

Ann an achadh bheag uaine chaidh lomadh le fàl
Bidh na gillean le’n camain a’ strì ann
'S cha 'n 'eil buidheann an tir mhor Dhun-Morogh
Tha cho clis ris na suinn taobh Loch Modan.

(Repeat chorus)

Tha daoine cho coibhneil 's cho càirdeil 'sa ghleann
'S chan eil aobhar bhith dubhach no sgìth ann,
Is cho fhad’s a bhios Trioch 'ga sgrìobhadh le peann
Bidh mi moladh mo ghleann taobh Loch Modan.

(Repeat chorus x2)

—Translation—

(First verse missing)

(Chorus)
Oh, it’s a pity that I was not in the valleys of my love
For there is blessing of the spirits and peace
There are the most beautiful rivers and forests in the world
In the valleys of my love by Loch Modan.

The fragrant smell of heather over the mountain tops
And you will see the red stag on the ground there
Even if you travel our land you will not see a single valley
The valley by Loch Modan is so beautiful.

(Repeat chorus)

In a small green field it was mowed with a fence
The boys with their crooks struggle there
And there is no group in the great land of Dun-Morogh
Loch Modan is as quiet as the sun.

(Repeat chorus)

People are so kind and friendly in the valley
And there is no reason to be depressed or tired,
As long as Trioch writes it with a pen
I will praise my valley by Loch Modan.

(Repeat chorus x2)


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This one required few changes here and there. Enjoy!

—On Board of a Man-of-War—

As I was walking a Stormwind street
A bold press gang I chanced to meet
And they asked me if I’d join the fleet
On board of a Man-of-War, boys

Said I brother shipmates, tell me true
What kind of usage they gives to you
That I may know before I go
On board of a Man-of-War, boys

But when I got there to my surprise
All that they’d told me was shocking lies
And it’s there was a row, a bloody good row,
On board of a Man-of-war, boys

Well the first thing they did they took me in 'and
They lashed me with the tar-y strand
And they whipped me till I couldn’t stand
On board a Man-of-War, boys

They hung me up by my two thumbs
They whipped me till the blood did run
And that was the usage that they gave me
On board of a Man-of-War, boys

I was married, her name was Grace
Its there that’s to blame for this shocking disgrace
Because it was from there I run away
On board a Man-of-War, boys

But when I set me foot on shore
See them girls we all adore
Why I’ll never go to sea anymore
On board a Man-of-War, boys


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Figured this would be a great song for the Forsaken or death knights. Lyrics may not make too much sense as they’re directly translated from Swedish. Original song by Finntroll.


Gallows Song.

Once I travelled with flesh and bones,
Once I kissed a warm mouth.
Now I wander on a long road.
in the mold around the trails of the graves.

The worms ate and and the frost bit
In mold here around the trail of graves

Once I rode a fast roamer,
Once I wore armour and steel.
Now I wander on a long road
In the mold around the trails of the graves.

Cold frost and hot fire
In the mold around the trails of the graves.

Once a proud and fair man,
Yet once I treacherously slaughtered.
Now I wander on a long road
In the mold around the trails of the graves.

Now I sing my gallow’s song
In the mold around the trails of the graves.

Now I sing my gallow’s song
In the mold around the trails of the graves.

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This one is inspired by a classic of the 70’s British folk rivival. A song I have tweaked into a story about humans in industry. Hope you enjoy. Original song by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger.

—My Old Man—

My old man was a good old man
Skilled in the moulding trade
In the stinking heat of the iron foundry
My old man was made
Down on his knees in the moulding sand
He wore his trade like a company brand
He was one of the titans’ smoky band
Yes, that was my old man

My old man wasn’t really old
It’s just that I was young
And anybody just past their teenage years
Was halfway to the tomb
He was loyal to his workmates all his life
Gave his pay packet to his wife
Had a few jars on a Saturday night
Yes, that was my old man

My old man was a union man
Fought hard all his days
He understood the system
And was wise to the boss’ ways
He says, you want what’s yours by right
You have to struggle with all your might
They’ll rob you blind if you don’t fight
Yes, that was my old man

My old man was a proud old man
At home on the foundry floor
Until the day they paid him off
And showed him to the door
They gave him his pay, said, things are slack
We’ve got a machine can learn the knack
Of doing your job, so don’t come back
The end of my old man

My old man he was fifty-one
What was he to do?
A craftsman moulder with no job
Convinced his days were through
He felt he’d given all he could give
So he did what thousands of others did
He abandoned hope and the will to live
They killed him, my old man

My old man he is dead and gone
Now I am your old man
And my advice to you, my son
Is to fight back while you can
Beware of the gnome with the silicon chip
Hold on to your job with a good firm grip
'Cause if you don’t you’ll have had your chips
The same as my old man


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This was already a bleak and heavy song before I even changed up the lyrics. Hope you enjoy.

—The Massacre of Lordaeron—

(Chorus)
Oh cruel are mires of Darrowshire
That cover the graves of her people
And cruel was the scum that raped Lordaeron
And murdered the house of Menethil
(chorus)

They came came with the storm, with death in their eyes
Some ran, some fought, against the undead tide
Mothers and children, did weep and hide
But gone was our dear king Menethil

(Repeat chorus)

They came from the north with murder mind
The Scourge had their orders, leave none alive
The traitor Prince led them, turned from the Light,
And slaughtered the house of Menethil

(Repeat chorus)

They came from the shadows, infecting our grain
They swept through our lands, and they ruthlessly slayed
Til’ nothing but ruins and bones remained
None left to mourn the house of Menethil

(Repeat chorus)

Some died as heroes, Some fell to despair
Some died as they choked on the poisonous air
Not even the women and children were spared
And gone was the house of Menethil

(Repeat chorus x 2)


This one required one or two words and a creative title. A tragic song about wives losing their husbands down the mines. Hope you enjoy.

—The Mine Collapse—

They came to call for me last Monday morning
When I was hanging washing on the line
They looked down at their feet a lot and wouldn’t meet me eye,
And only said “you’re wanted at the mine”.
I know that he was dead but funny, I could only think
How fresh the clothes would smell if it stayed fine

(Chorus)
And they say it wasn’t such a big disaster
It only made the papers for a day
I’m sure the wives who’re weeping will find comfort in your news,
So tell them that and then see what they say
And ask them who’s to feed the children, where they’ll find the rent.
And ask how much the owners mean to pay.

They carried all the bodies to the apothacary
All laid in rows as neatly as can be
Some were burnt, some were crushed and some had only choked
But none of them was very nice to see
And it was only by the belt he always used to wear
That I could tell which one belonged to me…

(Repeat chorus)

They’ll find some lying weasel for the inquest
Or some poor lad who’s frightened for his place
Who’ll claim he smelled tobacco just an hour or two before
And swear the men were smoking at the face
For it only takes a single match to shift the owner’s blame
And some dead miner bears the whole disgrace.

(Repeat chorus)

There’ll be enough insurance for the funeral
A proper place to rest at least he’s due
Some money from the local church or perhaps they’ll start a fund
But after that I don’t know what we’ll do
For I don’t suppose at twenty nine I’ll find another man
For younger widows they’ll be looking too.

(Repeat chorus)