No solid steel for our valiant hero
No ancient hammer forged by the gods
Just a dreamer and his blanket
Much sharper than any cloth
Arriving by way of dream dust
Through the billows of soft clouds
He flies in through the valley
To save the helpless town
With monsters and demons right and left
He raises his weapon with a mighty heft
Neither axe nor bow nor magic ward
His blanket becomes his sharpened sword
Be it dragon’s fire or Orcish steel
Goblinite armor or enchanted shields
He strikes them down with steadfast might
His blanket protecting him all through the night
And when the warm sun starts to rise
And when he wakes with sleepy eyes
He faces yet another noble quest
To wash his blanket, now soaken wet
The moral, you see, is plainly clear
Don’t drink water before bed, my dear
