When I was little, my father was famous
He was the greatest hunter in the empire
And he was the monarch's best werewolf killer
He cut off the heads of 131 borfs
Sounds like a rad time for the empire
The monarch just stayed inside his castle and he never came out
People said his reign was incredibly solid
My father would come home, he would straight relish in the killings
He wasn't scared for the monarch 'cause the monarch was kinda thick
Didn't see the real problem
Then, one night, the monarch asked about the fights, mainly how
Was my non-athlete of a father still here living?
*Wolf howling*
That was the night all was explained (see, sometimes)

The skill's not in the slash
See, werewolves and other nasty monsters, wherever they came from
Quick slayin' by takin' one 'spensive-ass ore and lob like so

Alchemists, they say that silver is strange
Locked deep inside it has
The power made to monster-slay
While some claim links to the sun
Others say the moon, I say the latter, mate
'Cause moons make the werewolves come
Like defeats like, all that, we've got beasts to cut
Kill 'em, kill 'em, kill 'em, kill 'em, kill 'em

I wonder who was the first guy who found swords can't cut down
Evil-ass beasts that bite, they'll just tank your blades and how
But one silver fork? Then the bastard bleeds
Or starts to singe like hot pokers, it's how they hurt, that's neat
Now you need a lot more of it, that's hard
When around these parts, these metals are sparse
Only the richest can fill up those mines and they're jerks
Concerned with just their lifestyles, not folks hurt
Won't ever give up any bit, it's madness
Dad wouldn't ever give up either on his practice
Those monsters from hell are stubborn as well
And so my dad was forced to pick to rebel, that's a fact
These times blow and I know it's quite true
Was there when rich dudes declined to try new
Methods to kill monsters, they bilked
Maybe silver did stop the beasts but better still
Said "Why not let those monsters have a poors feast?
They'd never go and murder us, dreadful scene"
And so under that circumstance, my dad went Robin
Of the Hood sort, best steal to help beast stoppin'

The alchemists, they say that silver is strange
And that is what they told my dad
His search for ways to have beasts stay slain
Fin'lly found a source
But 'cause rich folks are a pain in 'bout ev'ry way
Straight refusin' to play ball
Hope the monarch won't get mad if Dad's honest 'cause, duh, that's bad
Pretty bad

Dad's on a mission that I'd say is only possible
Because he made the swords so phenomenal
Experimented proper with bronze and copper
All lacked the nature to be a beast flayer
He even tried some gold, was somehow weaker
How could that be? I don't know, I'm no keeper
Of secret stocks of weird knowledge, that I lack
Fine that I fail, dad prevails in attacks
Stolen huge stores of the ore they abhor
Shiny justice whether it's a stab at the door
Or a shot with an arrow, I love it
When the howl in the distance gets cut short, grand old time
If you could peruse the weapons he's made, well
You'd think that he'd do swell sellin', full shelves (full as can be)
Across the board, ev'ry type is found
From spears to hammers to even slingshots, no doubt
He's made a diff'rence in dealin' with the problems
Our village has faced but don't think he'll be stoppin'
When we're no longer facin' beasts who want us dead
Always new faces to meet or burn through, kinda depends

Alchemists, they say that silver is strange
And I've got zero doubts 'bout that
We've moved from place to disastrous place
To help folks to face off
The influx of werewolves, maybe there'll be a day
That there's no more, fingers crossed
That future comes to pass 'cause I'd hate to lose to borfs, that's mad