Walking from the forest, a swagger in his stride
All of sixty inches tall and fifty inches wide
He came from lands uncivilized and rude to say the least
They brew their wine with hops and grass and brew their beer with
yeast!
He walked like a barbarian, all dressed in furs and skins
He saved them from destruction from the super bargain bins
Armed he was with sword and knife, his weapons bright and sharp
Though they were bent and twisted on that we will not harp.
Chorus:
He's Irving the Barbarian, a rough and tumble guy
His fame is known throughout the land that's underneath the sky
He's weak and slow and flabby but he is a warrior born
And he'll not run from battle unless his underwear is torn
He's mighty in a battle, oh you'd want him on your side
Even on the times when he has broken down and cried
He faced the Hordes of HunGol with defiance spoken loud
Lucky for him he blended in when they chased him through the crowd...
He knows wilderness survival, he loves living off the land
He loves it even more with both his cook and maid at hand
Into the woods he hunts for food, adventures by the score
And it only happens sometimes that he runs from squirrel snores.
Chorus
Cities know and fear him his name, they tremble deep in fear
They pay his well to leave their streets and never reappear
He's very loud and brutish with the hobbies he enjoys
He serenades the ladies and he likes to play with toys (In Public!)
One time a city begged him stay, they knew of Irving's might
An evil army had arrived outside the gates that night
"Please stay and help, we need your sword to not be overrun!"
His sword was there but he was gone upon the rising sun
Chorus
Well, Irving is no more... a shame the way he went
He was cleaning bow and arrows right inside his tent
His bow went off and shot him twice, it nicked him in the ear,
He yelled, ran, tripped and broke his neck on an empty mug of beer
He's Irving the Barbarian, a rough and tumble guy
His fame is known throughout the land that's underneath the sky
He never broke a pinky swear, that much we shouldn't scorn
And he'll never run from war again - until his soul's reborn!
Jacob Sommer
April 16, 2000