BardicTranslationRoughs/Woods

It has become known that in the woods close to the city, rebels and malcontents
Have the temerity to light campfires, laze around in the grass and plot misdeeds.
Our troop received an order to proceed to the location; nodding, we venture forth.
Locate the evildoers, surround them, surprise them, tie them up - we are used to it.
A few hours later the troop has already encircled the layabouts, pressed them into their lair.
A spear to the throat of each, and we count to fifteen.
Quickly they realise what's what and what will follow.
By the count of three, they've all surrendered, thrown down their weapons, without a qualm.
Some weep, others cry that they're happy to serve the government even as executioners or torturers.
Some offer bribes, others offer to betray the leaders; no shame nor pride.
Just one surrenders in a way that is exemplary, the proper way:
He lies, the bastard, in the grass, and whistles a meaningless tune, staring at the sky
As though he was just walking past and decided to lie down for a rest and whistle.
As though he has nothing to do with what is happening; which incidentally is quite possible, no-one asked any questions.
The troops quickly realise that such a one should not be taken alive.
My spear pierces the whistler's throat; the rest are captive, and it is over.
Walking back, I try to whistle that tune, but it doesn't come - I can't get it right.
Quite understandable; I've always been tone deaf, with no musical memory.
(whistling)
...exactly [the thing/the one] that's needed.