The Death of the Paladin

by: Danilo Thann date: Unknown source: One of Elaine Cunningham's books We've come to mourn the paladin, That best and noblest sort of man. His way was clear, his will was strong, But he's just as dead as if he'd been wrong. Alone he faced the ork-ish horde And, dauntless, raised his mighty sword. He did not flinch, he did not blink, He surely did not stop and think. The halls of Tempus open wide. Our paladin is led inside. He shares with all his righteous creed And frowns on wenching, ale, and mead. So do not mourn this hero's death Though of his strength you are bereft. If you must weep, weep for the god Who must endure the tiresome sod.