The Paladin

On a warm summers evening.
On a gryphon bound from Stormwind.
I met up with a paladin,
we were both to tired to sleep.
So we took turns at staring,
at the darkness down in Duskwood,
and when we came to Westfall.
Well he began to speak. And he said:
Son I’ve made my life,
out of questing in the world of Warcraft.
And I know what you’re specced up for
just by looking at your gear.
So if you don’t mind me saying
I can see you have capped to 60,
but there’s a horrid amount of pwnage
before you’re a master of this game.
So when you’re in a party or raiding.
And a kill demand some looting.
Why the hell do you roll on a robe
when you’re a warrior and using plate?
And there is never any need for begging.
Get your own gold and grind and fight.
'Cause if you’re gonna play the fucking game, boy
you gotta fucking learn to play it right.
You gotta know when to auction it.
Know when to trade it.
Know what to give away.
And know what to enchant.
You never kill low-levels,
when you’re riding down the noob-zones.
There’ll be time enough for killing.
When a battle is on.
Every gamer knows,
that the secret to survival,
is knowing how to play your class
and know how to play it well.
'Cause chances are that someday
you get polymorphed into a sheep.
So the best that you can hope for
is to die in your sleep.
So when he finished speaking.
He leaned up against his polearm.
Looked through his quest-log
and then he faded off to sleep.
And somewhere in the darkness,
the paladin he broke even.
And with his final words
I got an item I could keep.
You gotta know when to auction it.
Know when to trade it.
Know what to give away.
And know what to enchant.
You never kill low-levels,
when you’re riding down the noob-zones.
There’ll be time enough for killing.
When a battle is on.