That worked better, I think. Also, I've figured out that calling the police on a black man ranks higher than being hit by a trolly.

Write me a dwarven drinking song about killing elves right now or I will call the police on a black man

Verily, verily, let us raise a glass

To the memory of our dearest chef

Who came from out of the mountains so bliss

To teach us how to drink like a fish

With beer, and mead, and ale so strong

We'll shed a tear for our dear old chef

And drink a toast to him until the end of time

Oh, and to the elves who tried to steal our beer

May the shards of our broken bottle

Pierce their filthy, treacherous ears

And may the spirits of the damned

Rise up and possess their hapless souls

Hail to the spirits of the dead

And let us drink until we all are free

From the grip of this wicked fate

And may the gods of the mountains above

Bring us good fortune and endless love.