What Would Conan Do?

In this savage civilization
When my soul suffers abrasions
There is one honest self-query
That renders me quite cheery

When I'm deathly sick at heart
A question brings to me comfort
When my mind is pained too
I ask, what would Conan do?

What would Conan do?

Spur his mighty thews

Into furious action!

Not be content with mere reaction

When relations with my wife

Have caused me undue stress and strife

I do like Conan with the vampire

Throw my worries in the fire!

When I compare my unlovely flab

To the Cimmerian’s iron abs

I tax my muscles in sun or rain

Like he did on the Wheel of Pain

When dirty workplace politics

Tire me of civilization’s tricks

I escape as the barbarian goes

By moving catlike in shadows

When from futile job searches

Zombielike my body lurches

Like Conan fighting foes undying

I fight on till the prize is mine

When misfortune from heaven comes

I rely on myself, never ask of Crom

If god doesn’t deign to pull me through

I’ll gladly yell ‘To hell with you!’

When life has me cowered

I channel that hero of Howard

This question always gets me through

I ask, what would Conan do?