deathsong of Conan the Cimmerian The road eas long and the road was hard and the skywas cold and grey the dead white moon was a frozen shard in the dim pale sawn of day but thief and harlot, king and guard warrior, wizard, knave and bard rode with me all the way. the wind was sharp as a whetted knife. As it blew from the wet salt seas the storm wind stirred toa ghostly life the gaunt black skeletal trees Buti drank the foaming wine of life wine of plunder and lust and strife down to the bitter lees. a boy from the savage northi came to cities of silk and sin. with torchand steel, in blood and flame i won what a man may win Aye, gambled and won at the devil’s game splendor and glory and glittering fame and mocked at death’s skull-grin. And there were foemen to fight and slay and frieds to love and trust and crowns to conquer and toss away and lips to taste with lust. and songs to keep black night at bay and wine toswill tothe break of day what matter the end be dust? I’ve won my share of your gems and gold they cumble into clods I’ve gorged on the best that life can hold and devil take the odds the grave is deep and the night is cold the world’s a skull-full of stinking mould and i laugh at your little gods! the lean road slunk through a blasted land where the earth was parched and black but we were a merry,jesting band who asked no easier track roghue and reaver and firebrand and life rode laughing at my right hand and death rode at my back the road was dusty and harsh and long crom, but a man gets dry! i’m old and weary and death is strong but flesh was born to die Hai, gods! but it was a mery throng rode by my side with jest and song under an empty sky I’ve heard fat, cunning priestling tell how damned souls writhe and moan that paradise can buy an sell for gold and gold alone to the flames with scripture and priest as well I’ll stride dawn the scarlet throat of hell and dice for the devils throne i faced life boldly and unafraid should i flinch as death draws near? life’s but a game, death and i have played many a wearisome year Hai! to the galland friends i made slave and swordsman and lissome maid i begrudge no foot of the road i strayed the road which endeth here.