A Sermon on Orcish Issues: On Substance Abuse
Mauloch, Father to us, his children
Gave us strength, endurance and passion
That we may crush our foes and love our kin;
Under your guidance, we have no fear!
The fire of battle breeds a fiery belly
That mead and wine rightly quenches.
But to over-indulge breeds dishonour
For the foolish acts are committed by the senseless.
There are those who master the balance of drink
And those who are shackled in its slavery -
For their honour in Mauloch's eyes shrink
Which can be repaired with no amount of bravery.
He who is drinks slave
Is trapped in the mind's cave
Where they cannot help but crave
The substance to bring them to an unhonourable grave.
Mauloch's children are to no-one a slave
Nor a prisoner in their minds cell
For the weak no songs in Ashpit do we yell
And do not in resounding glory bathe.