When a humble bard graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia, along came this song. From when the white were fought, a silver-tongued devil, his army of elves, at his hooves did they revel. They came after me with masterful deceit, broke down my lute and they kicked in my teeth. While the devil's horns minced our tender meat, and so cried the witcher, he can't be bleat. Toss a coin to your witcher, O valley of plenty, O valley of plenty. Toss a coin to your witcher, O valley of plenty. At the edge of the world, fight the mighty horde, that bashes and breaks you, and brings you to mourn. He thrust every elf, far back on the shelf, high upon the mountain, from where they came. He wiped out your best, got kicked in his chest, he's a friend of humanity, so gave him the rest. That's my epic tale, I can't be un-prevailed, defeated the villain, now pour him some ale. Toss a coin to your witcher, O valley of plenty, O valley of plenty. Toss a coin to your witcher, a friend of humanity. Toss a coin to your witcher, O valley of plenty, O valley of plenty. Toss a coin to your witcher, a friend of humanity. Toss a coin to your witcher, O valley of plenty, O valley of plenty. Toss a coin to your witcher, a friend of humanity. Thanks for watching!