Rogue

Wolves asleep amidst the trees

bats all aswayin' in the breeze

but one soul lies anxious, wide awake

fearin' no manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths.

For your dolly polly, sleep has flown

don't dare let her tremble alone.

For the Witcher heartless cold, paid in coin of gold

he comes, he'll go, leving naught behind

but heartache and woe

Deep deep woe.