Whelp, this is a thing that I wrote.

The Gallant Wynter strode forth
Regal and magnanimous in his on right
Casting aside all assailants, confident in his might

To friend and foe alike
Never failing to face each slight
He would vanquish any obstacle
And sleep the sleepless night

On Sepros he sits,
Orian's master and king,
his voice shatters wits,
and makes our folk sing.

Oh, can't you see folks,
he is our Bentre,
his very presence invokes,
comfort and carefree

He is our Overlord,
our Master, our king,
he leads us forward,
his praises we sing

he united our people,
he slayed our invaders,
though he is not so peaceful,
we do not suffer the raiders.

He rules with a fist,
not kindness or joy,
thus these words we will list,
so with us he won't toy.

He is our Overlord,
our Master, our king,
he leads us forward,
his praises we sing

Von Ricmore, oh Ricmore
He is bald of head
Von Ricmore, oh Ricmore
The name fills me with dread

Striving forth no matter what bars the way
Determined to always seize the day
What of the cost? Oh how the bodies lay
Those poor souls which he has chosen to slay

Von Ricmore, oh Ricmore
Why do you persist?
Von Ricmore, oh Ricmore
It’s useless to resist.

In the sands of
dark Tattooine
Lived a dragon
that was brooding.

Our great hero
Jedi Creon
hunted the beast
and took its pearl...

The black pearl, the black pearl, the evil eye of the night! Torn from its gizzards after losing the fight! It makes a darksaber named dragonslayer! Our hero the ranger moves closer to danger.