Another song from distant lands

Here is another poem, which I label 'from distant lands'. I discovered it quite by accident when at the international Obscure Librarian's Annual Dinner, I noticed a man in the corner who was scribbling something on his napkin. Since librarians are notorious for what they scribble on their napkins, I made sure to ask him about it, but unfortunately forgot until after the dinner was over the tables had been put away. I had no choice but to do what some humans I have discussed this with refer to as 'dumpster diving'.
I had the bad luck to pull my rope down in with me, and I might have spent the night trapped in such a place, had not a local hobo overheard my screams for help and delivered me. I'm afraid to say certain unnamed agencies liquidated that poor fellow's memory of me, so I could not thank him personally.

This is what was on the napkin:

High praise to the Empire, may her banners fly proud,

In the lands of her founding; fair Skyrim renowned!

May her children have freedom and peace all their days,

from the warfare of Stormcloaks, and all their traitorous ways!

All hail the Empire! She remembers her own,

And saves them from usurpers who covet the throne,

May her soldiers hold stations and guard us from ill,

From the weak-hearted traitors who seek only to kill.

But Skyrim's no land of the meek and the thrall,

we'll have our good freedom from Somerset Isle.

No elf will command us, to worship or serve,

They'll get what's coming, and what Skyrim deserves.

Oh Thalmor beware, of the men you call Nords!

keep watch for their war cries, and bitter sharp swords!

For Talos the man-god, his blood was our own!

And we'll best you in battle and bury your bones!

Long live the Empire, may Skyrim grow tall!

May her fallen meet honor in Shors mighty hall!

For she has been reconquered by Empire men,

May she never be sundered, or divided again!