Скачать или смотреть Every Friday I’m Smashed | Epic Bard Song of Heroes & Ale🍺🔥🎸

Here comes the bardic anthem for every worn-out hero — Every Friday I’m Smashed! 🍺🔥
From Monday to Thursday he saves kingdoms, slays beasts, and carries the weight of destiny…
But when Friday night comes — the armor’s off, the tankard’s up, and the tavern shakes with madness.

Raise your mug, sing loud, and let the chorus echo: EVERY FRIDAY I’M SMASHED!

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Hear the tale of a hero, strong and brave,
He lifts the world, he saves the day,
But even champions have their cracks—
Listen well, for Friday comes at last.

From Monday’s dawn he shoulders the weight,
Slaying beasts at the city gate,
Villagers cheer as the danger is thrashed,
But inside he whispers: Friday… I’ll be smashed.

He trains the squires, he mends the shields,
Plows the earth, works farmer’s fields,
A hero by duty, a legend by name,
Yet he knows each week it ends the same.

Every Friday I’m smashed!
Back on duty when the week is fresh!
Every Friday I’m smashed!
But on Monday I’m back on quest!
Raise your mugs, let the night crash—
Every Friday I’m smashed!

Tuesday calls with a dragon to chase,
He dives through fire, no fear on his face.
By Wednesday dawn, the king sends word:
“Save the realm!” — he answers, sword.

Thursday night he’s still on patrol,
Guarding the bridge, defending the toll.
But under his helm, he grins through the clash,
Counting the hours to when he’ll be smashed.

Heroes bleed, and heroes fight,
But heroes crave the Friday night.
No potion strong, no spell so fast,
Like the ale he meets at last.

Every Friday I’m smashed!
Back on duty when the week is fresh!
Every Friday I’m smashed!
But on Monday I’m back on quest!
Raise your mugs, let the night crash—
Every Friday I’m smashed!

“Where’s the hero?”
“At the tavern door!”
“What’s he fighting?”
“The ale, the floor!”
“Is he ready?”
“For quest and clash!”
Together “But tonight, tonight—he’s smashed!”

He stumbles in with armor dented,
Tales of dragons, half-invented.
Bards all cheer, the maidens laugh,
As he gulps down mead by the cask.

He sings of quests, of gods, of gold,
But drops his lute as stories unfold.
“Another round!” the innfolk shout,
And he roars with joy, his strength burns out.

Every Friday I’m smashed!
Back on duty when the week is fresh!
Every Friday I’m smashed!
But on Monday I’m back on quest!
Raise your mugs, let the night crash—
Every Friday I’m smashed!

In the mud he’ll sleep, with his helm askew,
Ale-stained boots, and a missing shoe.
But fear not, friends, don’t count him gone—
For Monday comes, and the hero marches on.

The rooster cries, the sun ascends,
The hero wakes, his story bends.
He straps his blade, he cleans his sash,
He’s fresh again—till Friday’s smash.

Every Friday I’m smashed!
Back on duty when the week is fresh!
Every Friday I’m smashed!
But on Monday I’m back on quest!
Raise your mugs, let the night crash—
Every Friday I’m smashed!

So sing it loud, both brave and brash,
For even heroes need their crash.
By steel or song, the weeks are clashed,
But come the ale… every Friday he’s smashed.

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