“Trust the Tracks” [Intro] (Fast, cheeky lute strum with a fiddle flourish. Ranger mutters under breath.) (Spoken): “Oh sure, Bard, you know everything—except what a wolf track looks like. And Paladin? That clanking is scaring off dinner. Druid? Nice bear form. Real subtle.” (Music kicks in with a lively jig rhythm.) [Verse 1] I’ve walked these woods since I was barely three, I can smell a goblin camp from behind a tree. But you city-born folks think you’ve got the lore, While you’re asking me if moss grows on the north or the floor! You’re quoting poems while the trail runs cold, And the Paladin’s armor sounds like coins of gold. I say “Quiet!”—you say “Why?”—oh, bless your soul, If the wolves don’t eat us, then the owlbears will roll! [Chorus] So trust the tracks, trust the signs, Not your shiny boots or your witty lines! I read the earth like you read your rhymes, While you’re arguing about “ancient times.” I’m the one who keeps you fed and alive, So stop debating—let the Ranger drive! [Verse 2] The Bard’s composing ballads ‘bout the “forest’s grace,” While stepping in a trap with a cheerful face. The Paladin’s praying for a holy light, But the sun went down—hope your god’s polite! The Druid’s growling, stuck in “bear mode” again, Great for combat, but useless in the fen. I’m knee-deep in mud, reading spoor and signs, While you’re asking if the stars align! [Bridge] (Music speeds up, fiddle and bodhrán go wild) I see claw marks—what do you see? “Oh, a metaphor for destiny!” I smell danger—what do you smell? “Romance in the air!”—Oh, what the hell?! You want glory, you want fame, But if you die, I’m not to blame! So hush your songs and clangs and prayers, Or we’ll be dinner for bugbears! [Verse 3] I’ve tracked a wyvern through a hurricane, I’ve crossed a swamp with a twisted chain. But you folks think nature’s just a pretty scene, Like a painting in a castle for a noble queen! You mock my instincts, call me “wild and crude,” But when the arrows fly, you’ll change your mood. So laugh it up, but mark my word, When the wolves start howling, you’ll wish you heard! [Chorus] (Repeat with extra punch) So trust the tracks, trust the signs, Not your shiny boots or your witty lines! I read the earth like you read your rhymes, While you’re arguing about “ancient times.” I’m the one who keeps you fed and alive, So stop debating—let the Ranger drive! [Outro] (Music slows to a cheeky mandolin riff) (Spoken): “Next time you doubt me, Bard, write a song about how you got eaten. Paladin, maybe pray for silence. And Druid? Stay a bear. At least you’re useful then.” (Final fiddle flourish, laughter fades out.)
