Eleven Orcish Grunts

He looked around the huddle
And said “pray to Nuffle for me”
He bowed his head before them
Whispered, “Nuffle please be with me”
They could hear the opponent comin’
He said, “this is my last fight
If they take be back to the Nation
They won’t take me back alive”

There were eleven orcish Grunts
On the field in the sun
There were playin’ for the Nation
With the valley tribe of one
When the battle stopped and the dust cleared
There was thunder from the throne
And eleven orcish Grunts
Took another opponent home

He reached down and picked the ball up
That lay resting on the ground
He said, “Nuffle, please forgive me
I can’t make it another round”
And he knew the ball was heavy
And he knew he couldn’t win
But his final prayer was answered
When the Nation cheered again

There were eleven orcish Grunts
On the field in the sun
There were playin’ for the Nation
With the valley tribe of one
When the battle stopped and the dust cleared
There was thunder from the throne
And eleven orcish Grunts
Took another opponent home