[intro: Hurdy-gurdy drone with tavern noise, mugs clinking, laughter; both voices warming up] Both: Ho! Pour me one that bites, not sings! Measure it fair — and mind your things. A match! A match! Two knights tonight! Two hearts, one mug — who holds it right? [verse 1: Ganelon, booming and jovial] Aye, pour the draught that shakes the bones, The boar drinks deep where the music moans! I've felled more cups than I’ve felled men — And I’ll fell this one again, again! [verse 2: Olivier, calm and deliberate, over the same hurdy-gurdy line] The tilt is set, the rim is high, I mark each drop before it’s dry. No joy, no rage, no boast, no plea — Just craft, and aim, and mastery. [chorus: Rowdy tavern choir — men and women shouting, stomping mugs on tables] Hey! Ho! Who drinks the crown? Who keeps his feet when the world spins round? Steel or ale, both find their test — Raise your mugs, and drink the best! [verse 3: Ganelon, slapping the table with laughter] Ha! Your calm could sour the brew, You stare so hard the foam looks through! A man should drink with fire and song, Not count his gulps like right or wrong! [verse 4: Olivier, dryly mocking] And yet, old boar, your aim is wide — Your cards all wet, your pride half-tied. Precision wins, not volume’s roar; I drink my share — and nothing more. [chorus: Tavern crowd louder, stomping rhythm] Hey! Ho! The mugs collide! The dux himself might step inside! No crown tonight, no sword, no crest — Just men who brag and drink their best! [bridge: Both voices overlapping — hurdy-gurdy quickens, drums roll like laughter] Ganelon: Cards and cups and clashing cheer! Olivier: Stillness cuts through all you hear. Ganelon: Hah! You’d weigh your soul in grams! Olivier: And you’d drown yours in other men’s plans. Ganelon: Yet still we drink, and still we stand — A boar, a storm, one steady hand! [chorus: Crowd chanting, louder, faster — building chaos and laughter] Hey! Ho! The night’s grown bold! The fire’s bright, the ale turns cold! Who wins, who falls — none keep the score, They’re knights no more — just fools on the floor! [final verse: Slurred duet, laughing between lines; hurdy-gurdy wobbling slightly off tempo] Ganelon: My friend, you drink like death at mass... Olivier: And you like dawn through stained glass... Ganelon: So fill again — the night’s not done, We fight with mugs till both have won! [outro: Hurried laughter, mugs crash; choir fades with humming tavern tone] Olivier (softly): Two knights, one jest, no shame, no score — Both: Both kings tonight… and less tomorrow. [Laughter, final drumbeat, hurdy-gurdy drone fades.]
