The Bard Shagged the Bugbear, the Dragon, the Innkeeper, the Necromancer

Came in with boots wet and a tune on my tongue, Lute slung low, night already young, They said mind your manners, keep your voice low, I smiled, tuned up, let the rumors grow. They warn their sons, they lock their doors, Hide their monsters, sweep their floors, If it breathes, bites, bites back, or dances slow… It’s already heard my name, you know. By candle and spell, by laughter and ale, Some call it a curse, some call it a tale… The bard shagged the bugbear, call it a sin, The dragon still smirks when she hears my hymn, The innkeeper won’t talk but pours me first, And the necromancer learned that longing can thirst. Raise your cups, let the gossip prance her… Sing it loud now: Never trust the bard’s romance! The bugbear growled deep by the fire’s glow, Said “One song only,” I said “You sure you know?” Next thing the walls were shaking in time, Now half the town claims that night was mine. The dragon sat coiled on a mountain of gold, Said “Impress me, girl, or you’ll die cold,” Now every bard from ridge to sea Knows she hums my chorus mocking me. Ask me what happened, I’ll grin and stall, Truth bends best when it’s sung to all… The bard shagged the bugbear, songs still burn, The dragon remembers every note I turned, The innkeeper’s ledger’s missing a page, And the necromancer blushed despite her age. Stomp your boots, let the rafters answer… Sing it again: Never trust the bard’s romance! “Was it magic?” — Sometimes. “Was it planned?” — Rarely. “Was it dangerous?” — Always. “Would I do it again?” — Ask nicely. The innkeeper slid me a drink, no charge, Said nothing, just smiled, eyes sharp and large, The necromancer whispered, voice soft as bone, “Careful, bard… you wake what sleeps alone.” Now every town’s got a verse of its own, Addin’ sins I’ve never known, But if legends are written by nerve and chance, Then I’ll sign my name… and keep the dance. The bard shagged the bugbear, the dragon, the rest, Left echoes and heartbeats in every chest, The innkeeper’s quiet, the necromancer knows, Some things rise up… and some never decompose. Sing it drunk, sing it fierce, don’t answer… Never. Trust. The. Bard’s. Romance! I left claw marks on folklore, Smoke on scales, Moans in margins monks tried to erase, If it walks funny, won’t make eye contact, Or suddenly writes poetry…… MY BAD! The bugbear brags, the dragon grins, The innkeeper locks the doors from within, The necromancer counts the ways I sinned, And the dead won’t sleep, ‘cause they heard how I sing!