[Spoken Intro] Now gather in, you filthy lot And bolt the tavern door Tonight we sing Osana’s name May heaven ask no more A Welshman with a wicked grin And humour black as pitch He’d count you into battle Then laugh into a ditch [Verse 1] Out near Hurbury one cold night When Albion held the wall The guild was half prepared again Which means doomed, but with gall Gudd stood quiet by the gate Like death had joined the queue Berthold tuned a cheerful song For men with minutes few A cleric checked the bodies A scout said, “flank is clear” Which meant he’d seen nine enemies And logged it as career Then through the smoke came Osana With mischief in his eyes He looked upon the siege below And started counting lives [Pre-Chorus] One, two, three, four Boots upon the floor Five, six, seven, eight Someone kiss the gate Nine, ten, here they come Bang upon the drum Osana laughed and shouted “Pour the Come Drum, boys, well done!” [Chorus] Osana, Osana Raise your cups and roar Osana, Osana Counting at the door Osana, Osana Welshman dark and bright With a filthy little battle cry He ruined every fight [Verse 2] He was not built for silence Nor holy noble grace He had the kind of humour That could slap a corpse awake He’d say one thing too loudly Then watch the guild go pale Then grin like he had just improved A very tragic tale The paladin stopped glowing The friar dropped his tea The cleric said, “For Albion’s sake Don’t resurrect that, please” A theurgist sent pets in The air turned thick with wings Osana said, “That’s lovely, mate You’ve weaponised small things” [Pre-Chorus 2] One, two, three, four Mids are at the door Five, six, seven, eight Someone’s pulled the gate Nine, ten, here they come Bang upon the drum Osana winked and shouted “Pour the Come Drum, boys, well done!” [Chorus 2] Osana, Osana Laughing through the flame Osana, Osana Never felt the shame Osana, Osana Counting every run If the wipe was truly awful He said, “Well, that was fun” [Verse 3] Midgard came with axes high Hibernia came with mist Albion stood at Hurbury A half-drunk armoured fist Osana saw them gathering All proud beneath the moon He cleared his throat and counted in A deeply cursed old tune A lurikeen came creeping With murder in his tread Osana said, “How sweet of him He’s volunteered as dead” A troll came up behind him All muscle, rage and stink Osana said, “That’s not a raid That’s a wardrobe having a think” [Pre-Chorus 3] One, two, three, four Hold them from the door Five, six, seven, eight Albion won’t wait Nine, ten, here they come Bang upon the drum Osana roared with joy again “Pour the Come Drum, boys, well done!” [Bridge] Some men bring a battle plan Some men bring a shield Some men bring a spreadsheet That should never touch a field But Osana brought the darkness The cheerful, cursed and loud The kind that turns a massacre Into jokes before a crowd “Good news,” he said, “we found them Bad news, they found us too Worse news, lads, the cleric’s down Best news, so are you” The scout said, “I was scouting” From somewhere near the bar Osana said, “That’s clever, lad You’ve scouted very far” [Breakdown Chant] One for the gate Two for the wall Three for the cleric Who died saving us all Four for the scout Who vanished from sight Five for his brave report Arriving Wednesday night Six for the friar With holy stick pride Seven for the paladin Who glowed while he died Eight for the wipe Nine for the shame Ten for the poor sod Who released again Eleven for the pun Twelve for the run Thirteen for Osana And his Come Drum fun [Final Build] So drink to cursed old humour And raids that went all wrong Drink to Welshmen counting At the start of every song Drink to jokes too dark to polish Drink to wipes too good to waste Drink to every awful punchline Said with perfect deadpan taste Gudd was still as granite Berthold chased the breeze Osana counted corpses And called it “admin fees” [Final Chorus] Osana, Osana Raise your cups and roar Osana, Osana Counting at the door Osana, Osana Welshman dark and bright With a filthy little battle cry He ruined every fight Prim-Evil, Prim-Evil Laughing through the flame Prim-Evil, Prim-Evil We came back again Osana, Osana Joy in every run Albion still remembers When he beat the Come Drum, son [Outro] For keeps may fall and names go dark And years may take the sun But somewhere out near Hurbury Osana counts to one One for the wipe Two for the blame Three for the cleric Who won’t heal us the same Four for the scout Five for the run Six for the Welshman Beating the Come Drum Raise one more for Osana With his wicked little tongue The night was never tasteful But by Arthur, it was fun
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