The story begins
In an ancient time
Back then when men were men
And women had to deal
With the men being men

But I digress

This is not a tale of gender politics
It’s the story of two roofers
In a time of war
When men were men

And the thatchers
Plied their trade
Bending reams of straw to their (G) will
With nothing but their wits
And straw bending tools

And arrows of flame
Were the Sheriff's choice
To burn down the roofs of Wickham
And drive the wolfsheads
From their homes

Every roof
That burst into flame
To the thatchers glowed like gold
There was too much demand
And business was booming

And thus was made
Two brothers’ fates
To live, to die, to thatch
No roof too tall
No hole too small
And yet they met their match

The Thatchers of Wickham
Born out of the fire
To thatch a roof that’s arrow proof
Became their one desire

The Thatchers of Wickham
The lords of the roof
They ply the grain they stop the rain
But they became aloof

The Thatchers of Wickham
the Mark of Quality
Their thatching was without compare
And yet they failed to see

The Thatchers!
(The Thatchers)

The Thatchers!
(The Thatchers)

The Thatchers!
(The Thatchers)

At the height of their wealth
They became the stars
At a thatching guild convention
Where they hatched a new invention

They were approached
by the hooded man
he said “I need your fireproof roof
And It’s said you are the best of your clan”

In secret they worked
At the height of of their art
To weave the impossible weave
There would be no crack for the shaft to part

It was their pride
It was the final proof
That thatching was better than slate
They had built the irreproachable roof

Said the hooded man,
With crullers in hand,
“This roof shall harbor my men
And all the wolfs-heads of the land”

The sheriff came,
He came fast and hard
He came and kept on coming
For his troops were tight and his escort was large

The arrows flew
But none broke through
They took the flaming shaft
The arrows’ weight
It was too great
Their hopes and roof collapsed

Now they walk the land
No more thatchers, they
Lawyers of the injured thieves
Made the thatchers pay
They gave up their sickles
They lay down their straw
Now they play with axes
Now they build applause

The Thatchers of Wickham
Roaming far and wide
Playing for their daily bread
And payments to provide

Thatchers of Wickham
Musicians for hire
Pagan fests and gaming cons
Fulfilling your desires

The Thatchers!
(The Thatchers)

The Thatchers!
(The Thatchers)

The Thatchers!
(The Thatchers)