| Lyrics: | Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my
tale is told and done.
While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows from the flames will
grow,
Till things we've never seen will seem familiar.
Shadows of a sailor, forming
winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in Carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here
beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but
lost at love.
While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly
flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints
as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lion's den.
Which of you to gain
me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the
chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his
strength, and not disaster.
The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at
him.
That's how it stands today. You decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no
choice. Soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to
master.
Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will
return, but he cannot be bought or sold |
