When the wizard's held at bay and the warrior mired in melee

And the cleric kneeling over the dead and maimed

Take care, my son, for the vicar bears a gilded tongue

And a hex that will whisk you to the grave

Beware the healer

He can cause light wounds

May his hammer and flail be of little avail

And may your sword strike true

For when the healer

Sets his gaze on you

With the rage of the gods, with a flourish and nod

Your flеsh, it breaks in two

In your travels, on your quest, may your party find somе rest

In an inn, in the forest, in an abbey

Take care you don't cross the gods or the brothers of the cloth

For their mercy is tempered with disdain

Beware the healer

He can cause light wounds

May his hammer and flail be of little avail

And may your sword strike true

For when the healer

Sets his gaze on you

With the wrath of the gods, with a flourish and nod

Your flesh, it breaks in two