[Intro – jaunty upbeat strum, quick triplet runs on lute, faint distant elk bugle call layered in like a goofy fanfare] [Verse 1 – fast, grinning, half-spoken storytelling pace] We met him in the misty glade, antlers glowing like moonlight, Thought he was some ancient spirit—turns out he’s just…Steve, alright? Big as a horse, eyes full of stars, voice like thunder wrapped in velvet, But the first thing he says is “Oi, mate, got any carrots? I’m starvin’!” [Pre-chorus – building laugh, lute picks faster] He’s fey-born, wild magic, can shift through the trees, But he’d rather raid the tavern kitchen for cheese. Swears he’s a guardian, protector of the green— Then trips over his own hooves and face-plants in the stream! [Chorus – rowdy, whole tavern joins, stomping boots and clinking mugs] Oh Steve, Steve, the fey elk supreme! Antlers like branches, heart full of cream! He’ll charge through the shadows, save us from doom— Then beg for a biscuit and nap in the broom! Raise your tankards high for the elk with the grin, The mightiest companion who can’t stop eatin’ tin! Steve! Steve! Our ridiculous steed— The fey elk who fights, then asks for more mead! [Verse 2 – even faster, mimicking Steve’s dramatic voice] In battle he’s legend, horns wreathed in green fire, Gores a troll through the gut, sends orcs runnin’ higher. But when the fight’s over, he turns with those big doe eyes, “Oi, Elbrekt, mate—reckon they’ve got apple pies?” He once polymorph’d himself into a tiny fawn for laughs, Got stuck in a barrel, rolled down the path in halfs! We pulled him out covered in ale and regret— He burped sparkles and said “Best nap I’ve had yet!” [Bridge – slowdown to half-time, mock-serious tone, then burst back] They say fey are tricky, eternal and sly, But Steve’s the only one who’ll look you dead in the eye And whisper “I love ye, lads” before stealing your bread— Then vanish in mist… and come back for the spread! [Final Chorus – massive, chaotic, everyone yelling along, lute going wild] Oh Steve, Steve, the fey elk supreme! Antlers like lightning, belly full of dream! He’ll trample the darkness, then trample the bar, Eat half the kitchen and call it “a star!” Raise your tankards high for the elk with the flair, The guardian who’d sell us all out for a pear! Steve! Steve! Our glorious freak— The fey elk who saves us… then falls fast asleep! [Outro – fading fast strums, one last bugle honk, then a big sloppy lute chord] So here’s to Steve, the elk who can’t be tamed, Who fights like a demon and eats like he’s maimed. May his antlers stay shiny, his stomach stay vast— And may we never run out of carrots at last!
