[Verse 1] Now gather in, you glorious old relics. Aye, you there, with the pint. Stop pretending you were “just scouting.” We all know what that means. And you, cleric, sit closer to the fire. You’ve earned warmth after keeping this rabble alive for twenty years. For tonight I tell the tale of PrimEvil. [Pre-Chorus] Not as some dusty scholar would tell it, with dates and footnotes and the kind of voice that could send a troll to sleep standing up. No. I’ll tell it proper. [Chorus] PrimEvil, PrimEvil Again, again PrimEvil, PrimEvil We laugh and stand (Again, again) (We laugh and stand) [Verse 2] Long ago, after Arthur had gone and left Albion looking brave, cracked and slightly under-managed, the realm stood in trouble. To the north, the warriors of Midgard sharpened axes and shouted at weather. To the west, the folk of Hibernia whispered to trees, polished magic, and acted like stabbing you from mist was somehow spiritual. [Verse 3] And in the middle stood Albion. Noble Albion. Stubborn Albion. Albion of knights, towers, clerics, scouts, minstrels, armsmen, and men who could turn any simple plan into a full tactical disaster within six minutes. [Pre-Chorus] It was in this land that a guild was born. Not from royal decree. Not from prophecy. Not from some shining angel descending from the heavens with a banner and a sensible spreadsheet. No. [Chorus] PrimEvil, PrimEvil Again, again PrimEvil, PrimEvil We laugh and stand (Again, again) (We laugh and stand) [Verse 4] PrimEvil was born the proper way. A few mates looked around and said, “This lot are taking it far too seriously.” And lo, a guild was made. A guild for those who helped. A guild for those who laughed. A guild for those who could wipe three times, blame lag, blame pathing, blame the cleric, blame the dog, and still say, “Again?” [Bridge] Now every guild needs leaders. Some guilds choose kings. Some choose tyrants. Some choose men with deep voices and raid calendars. PrimEvil, being both blessed and clearly unsupervised, had Gudd and Berthold. [Final Chorus] PrimEvil, PrimEvil Again, again PrimEvil, PrimEvil We laugh and stand (Gudd!) (Berthold!) PrimEvil, PrimEvil Again, again PrimEvil, PrimEvil We laugh and stand [Outro] First came Gudd, Armsman of Albion. Then came Berthold. Where Gudd was the wall, Berthold was the wind.
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