Farewell To Song

farewell to song
you did me wrong
though your intent was pure
you spoke in smiles
with words beguiling
I can hear no more

farewell my muse
I did not choose you
when you came to play
bewitching airs
that my heart stirred
but now I must away..

away from verse
that did divert my
heart from other things
but in my leaving
’tis self deceiving
for I’ll return to you…
…and sing

Hey with a gay and a grinding Oh! (or …. I try to ballad in the old ways)

I read about the miller’s lass
from way on way back when
her fancies ran to lusty beaus
who rode up through the glen

to court her for her countenance
and for flaxen hair
its beauty famed across the burghs
fine as the mountain air

which kissed dew with a gentle breeze
as mornings in the May
and upon those misty morns
her suitors fair and gay

would dare to share a first embrace
beside the singing streams
and once they’d kissed, forevermore
she’d live within their dreams.

Love Is Gone Away (A Naive Ballad)

the bells have all stopped ringing
there are no choirs singing
no butterflies through sunflowers winging
for love is gone away

the children gave up playing
the breeze kissed trees stopped swaying
what good would it be praying
now love is gone away

no sweethearts softly sighing
the swallows gave up flying
my heart is slowly dying
as love is gone away.

Attempted Ballading (unfinished)

the wyld gallant came sailing by
from ‘cross the ancient sea
a lookin’ for his wayward bride
who’d come to stay with me

a bonnie fellah, wild of hair
and shoulders broad and strong
his fiery temper frightened her
because she’d done him wrong

his sword shone in his scabbard high
the hilt held in his palm
he drew it quick and split the sky
was sure he meant us harm

Finding Song

the once exhalted minstrel
whose songs oft full of mirth
had brightened days and nights for us
now sleeps beneath the earth
his voice no more to sing of love
no music scented air
silence deafening the land
now he’s no longer there
but in the warm midsummer
when dawn’s early smile appears
echoing in birdsong’s joy
maybe you can hear
a melody familiar
to those of sometime when
ballads lifted our poor souls
and the minstrel lives again