Once more unto the breach, dear Alliance, once more;
Or close the wall up with our Human dead.
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a Night Elf
As modest stillness and humility (and less nonsense chat about Elune):
But when the blast of war blows in our flappy ears (still talking to the Night Elves here),
Then imitate the action of the Shaman spirit wolves;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood (and your expertise and mastery of course)
Disguise fair nature (although us Humans have never really been that fair – we should have paid van Cleef surely?) with hard-favour’d rage (GRRR GRRR);
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect (squint rather nastily)
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide (this also doubles as a very rejuventating yoga move)
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height (more yoga – Power Yoga this time- not for the faint hearted)
On, on, you noblest Alliance.
And you, good yeoman (the Tillers),
Whose limbs were made in Pandaland, show us here
The mettle of your pasture (it’s rather green with lots of pumpkins and carrots I bet); let us swear
That you are worth your breeding (yes even you Worgen who do it doggy style…); which I doubt not (although look into her eyes once in awhile dear Worgen – just for decency’s sake);
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes (even while you’re mowing down defenceless Horde swimming for their lives).
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. (This is a myth- greyhounds are notoriously the laziest of animals – all greyhound races are actually poodles in greyhound suits – fact)
The game’s afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Prince Varian, Stormwind, and the Alliance!
It’s PAYBACK TIME!