[Intro – bright, rolling lute melody that sounds like someone who’s good at everything but never quite the best, crowd already chuckling] [Verse 1 – cheerful, teasing, warm baritone] She can track a ghost through a snowstorm, read the wind like a book, But the rogue still picks the lock faster with one hand and a dirty look. She can hit a dragon’s eye at four hundred paces with her bow, But the fighter somehow crits it first by tripping and swinging low. She speaks six languages, knows every herb and every star, Yet the bard still talks the barmaid into free drinks at the bar. [Pre-chorus – mock sigh, half-laughing] Always second place, never quite the crown, But somehow she’s the one who never lets us down. [Chorus – big, fond, everyone raising mugs with genuine warmth] She’s second best at everything, second best at everything! But we’d be dead a dozen times without that second-best swing! She’s second best at everything, second best at everything! The ranger we all tease… is the reason we still sing! She tracks the trail, she reads the sky, she keeps us fed and whole, And when the world goes sideways, she’s the steady in our soul. [Verse 2 – still jokey, but softening into appreciation] She’s never the flashiest, never the loudest in the fight, But when the party’s lost and freezing, she’s the one who finds the light. She can’t out-drink the barbarian, can’t out-sing the bard, But she’ll carry every wounded friend for seventeen miles after dark. We joke she’s “almost perfect,” she just rolls her eyes and smiles, Then quietly saves our reckless hides again in her own quiet style. [Pre-chorus – gentler now] She never brags, never complains, never asks to lead, Just shows up every morning doing exactly what we need. [Bridge – voice warms, becomes sincerely grateful, lute shifts to steady, reliable rhythm] When the storm is at its worst and every other hope has died, When even the paladin is questioning his pride… She doesn’t make a speech, doesn’t call upon the divine, She simply notches an arrow, finds the path, and says “Follow the line.” Second best at everything, but first when it truly counts— The quiet strength that keeps the whole damn party from falling down. [Final Chorus – big, warm, full of real love and laughter] She’s second best at everything, second best at everything! But we’d trade every hero for one more day with our second-best wing! She’s second best at everything, second best at everything! The ranger we all tease… is the reason we still sing! So raise your cups high for the girl who walks behind, The one who’s never number one… but always saves our behinds! [Outro – lute slows to a fond, steady strum, final warm chord] To the ranger… who’s second best at everything, and first in our hearts.
