As TES 5 looms it's time to pack up my old gear
To head to skyrim -the land the nords hold dear
I dust off my armor, strap on my sword
Lock up my house, summon a worg
As I mount up I wave a farewell
To the mages guild in Cyradil - where I had done quite well

Riding past Bruma and my old statue there,
Heading through pale pass -mangling up a bear
Stopping at a tavern to stay for a night
I got really drunk and got into a good ole fight

Riding when tanked I say is never a really good thing
The worg refused to jump and I landed in the stream
Cold, wet and shivering I swore vengence on my steed
Refusing to jump for me, what a rotton deed!

The worg ran off fast with me chasing on it's heel
Yelling screaming angry -that wasn't part of the deal!
Finally I stopped and gave a almighty cough
Was so hellish mighty, my loin cloth fell right off

Standing in knee deep snow I reconsidered my trip and all
Wishing for a gate to hell to ward off all my chills
Cyradil had it's problems
With the daedra and their gates
But being warm and cosy wasn't one of them - not at any rate

So off I trudge back to Cyradil,
Knee deep in cold snow
Reflecting back on past glories
I was someone there you know!

I'm getting far to old for adventuring
To battle evil doers and the like
To do so would be foolish
I would lose the fight

So on I trudge to Cyradil
Making my way back home
When a bandit sneaked up on me
I never made it home

Now I trudge this road
A ghostly figure in white
Cursed to trudge forever
Cursed to always fight