A toast to the guard of the hearth!
A toast to the one that makes his mark
On the fields so ripe
And press so full
A toast to the god of wine!
The little man
So clever and so drunk
With unkempt beard
And locks of gold
Let’s raise our glass to him
So that our glass might always brim!
The Green Mountains, composed by Forrin, King of the Dweor, as his folk caught sight of the Green Mountains on their long march to the south, fleeing from the upheaval of Usham.
Hark my Brothers!
For what is that upon the light of the horizon?
A land filled with milk and honey
A land to carve halls and brew beer
Where the furthest peak is ornate with green growing grass
Here we make our fortune once more
Safe from the chilling sorrow of Usham
Here upon the Green Mountains
Shall the Dweor be sung of again
Common shanty sung by the sailors of Tanaria, constantly on watch for pirates, most of all, the Sea Lord of Nazir
Be wary you sailor
Be wary you trader
Of the Sea Lord of Nazir
The cleverest pirate of here
He comes on the good wind
He comes on the bad wind
He comes all the same
On sails furled and whited
Like the pearls of the deep
With tongue of honey
And blade of sharp steel
He comes on the good wind
He comes on the bad wind
He comes all the same
Be wary you sailor
Be wary you trader
Of the Sea Lord of Nazir
The Sword to Unite 