The Ballad of Wolfric the Goblin F*CKER | Funny Tavern Song for RPG & DnD | Fantasy Folk

Описание: The Ballad of Wolfric the Goblin F*CKER– D&D Fantasy RPG Tavern Bard Song

Wolfric Ballad is a stupid bard song about some truly questionable choices. If you need funny d&d song or tavern song for your session, this goblin f*cker song is for you. Enjoy!

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Pull up a stool at The Merry Tavern for some medieval music and bawdy ballads. This comedic fantasy music is the perfect addition to your ttrpg bard songs or dungeon and dragons music. Our medieval folk music and other RPG music will set the perfect mood for your next adventure.

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👉    / @themerrytavern  

[Lyrics]

(Verse)
Come close, ye rowdy drinkers, and hark to this old tune,
Of Wolfric the Wanderer, who chased the emerald moon.
In goblin dens by flickering fire, he'd spot a lass so fine,
Drop sword and kneel with foolish grin, and spout this awful line:
"Oh goblin maid with teeth so sharp and skin like forest moss,
Your curves could launch a thousand raids – come, be my saucy boss!"
She laughed at first, then dragged him deep into her cavern bed,
And Wolfric proved his passion true – the goblins shook their heads!

(Chorus)
Oh, raise your tankards high for Wolfric, the Goblin F-er true!
He’d rather bed the greenskins than ever run them through.
From goblin caves to orcish camps, he’d charm them one and all,
With honeyed words and roguish grin, he’d answer passion’s call!
No dragon’s hoard nor elven maid could stir his wandering heart,
For only green and scaly skin could tear his breeches apart!
So drink to Wolfric’s legend, lads, the bravest of the bold—
The man who turned fierce foes to lovers with tales yet to be told!

(Verse 2)
Then came the scarred orc chieftain, mighty, old and grey,
Her tusks like ivory daggers, her glare could slay the day.
The horde prepared for slaughter, but Wolfric strolled right in,
And bowed before her throne of bones with this most shameless grin:
"Great lady of the war-paint, your scars are works of art,
Each one a tale of glory – let me worship every part!
Your thighs could crush a mammoth, yet gentle as the dawn—"
The orcs all pissed themselves with laugh, but she said, "Bed me, come on!"

(Chorus)
Oh, raise your tankards high for Wolfric, the Goblin F-er true!
He’d rather bed the greenskins than ever run them through.
From goblin caves to orcish camps, he’d charm them one and all,
With honeyed words and roguish grin, he’d answer passion’s call!
No dragon’s hoard nor elven maid could stir his wandering heart,
For only green and scaly skin could tear his breeches apart!
So drink to Wolfric’s legend, lads, the bravest of the bold—
The man who turned fierce foes to lovers with tales yet to be told!

(Verse 3)
Up in a crumbling wizard tower, mossy, dark and damp,
Lived a hunched old troll alchemist with warts and glowing lamp.
She brewed her foul concoctions, her skin like ancient bark,
But Wolfric climbed those spiral stairs and hit her with this spark:
"Fair crone of bubbling cauldrons, your wrinkles tell of wisdom grand,
Your warty hide's a treasure map – let me explore your land!
I'll stir your pot all night, my dear, with vigour none can match—"
She cackled wild, then pinned him down – the tower shook with scratch!

Last in a crowded tavern, dice and ale flowed free,
A sly green-skinned gnome gambler with eyes that winked at him.
She bet her gold and potions rare, her smirk both sharp and sweet,
Wolfric matched with gold, then raised: "If you lose, must warm my sheet!"
He won with luck or cheating – the dice fell in his favour true,
She cursed but honoured wager, and vanished to his room anew.
He whispered as they tumbled: "Your emerald skin's divine,
Like finest jade in moonlight – tonight you're wholly mine!"
The patrons cheered till morning light – his legend grew once more!

(Bridge)
Now some call him a pervert, a fool, or downright mad,
For loving those the world calls "savage" – the best he ever had.
But Wolfric saw no monsters, just beauties fierce and free,
And with his daft and filthy lines, he had them begging on their knees…

(End Chorus)
Oh, raise your tankards high for Wolfric, the Goblin F-er true!
He’d rather bed the greenskins than ever run them through.
From goblins, orcs, to trolls and gnomes, he loved them one and all,
With cringy lines and boundless lust – he'd never let them fall!
No dragon’s hoard nor elven maid could stir his wandering heart,
For only green and scaly skin could tear his breeches apart!
So drink to Wolfric’s legend, lads, till we all fall down drunk—
The greatest lover of the realm… and one hell of a funk!

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