A near-sighted cleric joins a goblin, a troll, and a demoness by mistake—then discovers her new party may be no worse than the heroes she left behind. A funny fantasy tavern song about questionable adventurers, stolen pigs, and one very useful pair of spectacles.


🎵 Suno source recording: https://suno.com/song/6be875e1-43be-4...

Created by Sable The Raven · Produced by DrakeForge3D



lyrics :



“Red banner, four adventurers, meet by the gate.”
There they are!
...One of them is unusually green.
She polished up her holy mace,
Pushed giant glasses up her face,
Saw four heroic shapes in fog
Beside a cart and stolen hog.
A goblin waved, “You here to heal?”
She smiled, “At last—a proper deal!”
The troll said, “She knows we're villains, right?”
The demoness said, “Don't ruin the night.”
They crept away beneath the moon,
She hummed a sacred marching tune.
“My party seems more focused now—
And someone finally brought a cow!”
“It's a pig.”
“Close enough.”
She joined the wrong party and never knew,
Blessing every crime they stumbled through.
“Steal a village pig?” Well, strange—but fine,
At least nobody challenged a dragon at level five!
Goblin, troll, and demoness three,
The best worst heroes she could barely see.
They whispered, “Should we tell her?” “Not tonight.”
She joined the wrong party—and it felt more right.
Down in a crypt they searched the dead,
“For clues,” the helpful goblin said.
He took the rings, the troll took boots,
The demoness divided loot.
The cleric frowned through lenses thick:
“Efficient evidence work! So quick!”
She blessed the sacks, she healed their knees,
And asked the corpses, “Witnesses?”
Her former friends had grander plans:
“Let's lead a war! Who understands?”
Not one had ever led a scout,
But still they drew the battle route.
She joined the wrong party and never knew,
Blessing every crime they stumbled through.
“Loot an ancient tomb?” Well, strange—but fine,
At least nobody challenged a dragon at level five!
Goblin, troll, and demoness three,
The best worst heroes she could barely see.
They whispered, “Should we tell her?” “Not tonight.”
She joined the wrong party—and it felt more right.
No doomed assault before our tea,
No siege command assigned to me,
No prophecy screamed in a burning hall,
No “split the party”—well, not at all.
They steal, they loot, they cheat at cards,
But read the quest before the guards!
If these are villains, I must confess:
They're strangely good at risk assessment.
“We stole a mayor.”
“A diplomatic escort.”
“We broke the vault.”
“Creative entry.”
“We are absolutely criminals.”
“Oh, don't be so hard on yourselves.”
At journey's end the goblin grinned:
“You need a stronger pair of rims.”
He gave her spectacles, polished bright—
The world snapped suddenly into sight.
She saw the tusks, the horns, the tail,
The stolen pig, the sacks of mail.
Three nervous faces watched her stare.
She cleaned the glass with solemn care.
She read the warrants, line by line:
“Pig theft, grave theft, stolen shrine...”
The goblin coughed, “We're not ideal.”
She said, “You stop when people squeal.
My old crew called collateral
A ‘minor tactical morale.’
You filed the loot in sacks by town—
I've met worse saints in nicer gowns.”
The troll set down the mayor's chair,
The demoness prepared a prayer.
She weighed their crimes against the cost
Of every village heroes lost.
“You plan, retreat, and share supplies;
You even label alibis.
By every oath and field report,
You're villains—but the safer sort.”
She joined the wrong party—now she knew,
Every shady thing they'd dragged her through.
She looked at the goblin, the troll, the fiend,
Then thought of every “heroic” scheme.
“You stole one pig. They'd risk a town.
You loot the dead. They'd burn it down.
You're not any worse than my former crew...”
She raised her mace: “So—what's our next quest due?”
She chose the wrong party, clear of view,
And blessed the crimes they planned to do.
Goblin, troll, and demoness three,
The best worst party in history.
“No doomed crusade, no dragon at five;
We read the quest and come back alive.”
They cheered, “Should we keep her?” “Absolutely right.”
She chose the wrong party—and it felt just right.
The goblin laughed, “We rob a king at nine.”
She checked the quest sheet: “Good. A sensible time.”


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