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🎯 Загружено автоматически через бота: 🛑 Оригинал: 📺 TheAnarchistMuffin — @theanarchistmuffin4996 📃 Оригинальное описание: A parody of Marty Robbins’ Cowboy ballad classic Big Iron (AKA that one song from Fallout: New Vegas), with Warhammer 40k inspired lyrics. Play it when you need to get old-school Inquisitorial. __________________ LYRICS: To the hive of Aguafrias came a stranger one grim day Hardly spoke to the Arbites, didn’t have too much to say No one dared to slit his purse-strings, no one dared to make a slip for the black-clad man among them had a boltgun on his hip Boltgun on his hip It was early in the morning when he landed at the ’port And he spent his day in houses of a foul and darkling sort He’s a heretic from offworld came the whisper from each lip And he’s here to weave some chaos with the boltgun on his hip Boltgun on his hip In this town there lived a ganger by the name of Nocturne Red Many Judges tried to take him and those men of law were dead He was vicious and augmented at the age of one-oh-four And the notches on his laslocks numbered ten and fourscore more Ten and fourscore more Now the stranger started showing there, to all the folks around A strange brooch of foreign metal, Gothic I in silver bound He came here on bitter business, to leave all the sinners dead And on the list of purge-ed was the name of Nocturne Red The name of Nocturne Red Wasn’t long before the rumors were relayed to Nocturne Red But the ganger didn’t worry- he would leave the ’quis’tor dead Ninety men had tried to end him, ninety men had made a slip Ninety one would be the ’quistor with the boltgun on his hip Boltgun on his hip It was thirty-seven minutes ’fore the ’quistor found his prey They met in a darkened fac’try where the bravest feared to stray Scum were watching from the gantries, mutie creatures held their breath they hoped this holy agent was about to meet his death about to meet his death There was forty feet between them when they stopped to make their play And the swiftness of the ’quistor is still talked about today Nocturne Red had not cleared plasteel fore a boltshell fairly tore And the ’quistors aim was blessed by Our Holy Emperor Our holy Emperor It was over in a moment and the final cleanse began Mutant scum were cut down righteous, brightly burning as they ran For the stranger brought stormtroopers and the Hive had made a slip None escapes the Emperor’s ’quistor with a boltgun on his hip Boltgun on his hip Boltgun, Mars Boltgun None escapes the Emperor’s ’quistor with a boltgun on his hip Boltgun on his hip
