The Villager Song

Now here’s a song for you. Be warned: it does not make much sense.

But no one cares at all or gives a ruddy quarter pence.

Now you may notice that the song is already begun,

And somehow sounds like it was written by an Irishman.


I was out flying through my world in Minecraft yesterday,

It was Creative, and it was a very merry day,

For I had found a village and my eyes did light with glee,

For this village was to be greiféd by me presently.


I started with the well by putting lava on the top

It turned in to obsidian; I moved on to the crops

From trusty bucket lava spilled, set fire to the wheat

And killed some stupid villagers who walked into the heat.


The blacksmith shop being nearby I turned toward the forge,

Released the lava from the font; it poured into the gorge

And set fire to armor and the swords that were therein

And then a villager walked in the lava once again.


And then I flew o’er all the houses to the library

And in a show’r of lava the whole building did bury

And I was sick of lava by the time that I was done

So I dropped the bucket in and in a moment it was gone.


As there were still buildings to grief, I set about once more

With TNT in hand I went and broke down the church door

I filled the the room with TNT and each and every floor

And set off the explosion and that church was now no more.


It blew up half the other library, and so I looked

I took my flint and steel and set fire to the books

The rest that was not burned by fire I broke up with my hand

And randomly I placed a little pyramid of sand.


The little houses made of wood, pathetic little huts

So small the villagers could not have missed them very much

When I set off a charge inside and blew them all away

And then the golden sun went down and took with it the day.


It being night the zombies came and broke down all the doors

The villagers were falling down all dead upon their floors

And I must admit I helped the zombies in grim conquest

And hunted down the villagers who slipped off in the west.


The village now was empty, all the houses desolate

Except in one house there was a zombie testificate,

Who burned as soon as he stepped out in the the rosy dawn,

The village now was quiet; its inhabitants were gone.


There were still buildings left to grief, I burned them to the ground

And then I spawned more villagers to have another round

I set my wolves upon them and with grim efficiency

They hunted down the villagers and struck them down for me.


As testament I stuck a little torch into the ground

A zombie head bore tribute of destruction all around

The village is still there, and so you can come to it and see.

Oh, wait, it’s singleplayer. Never mind. O silly me!


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