All those whose fates entwine it,
Will tell you of the strangest love
Of those that try define it.
For none can say what of the way
Our lives may choose to go
The lives we lead come from the deed
Of them who lived ago.
You see ye there a maiden fair
With tresses like red wine
Her eyes are green and in between
A spirit unconfined.
And there's a lad all ragged clad
With eyes of royal gem
This youn man's heart was torn apart
By them that did forsake him.
Our noblemen we do condemn
For the trouble they invoke
Within our land we understand
They care nothing for us folk.
His Majesty (and company)
Merely stand by and view
His son and heir who bears with care
The pride of blood that's blue.
So lean in near that you may hear
The tale as I entwine it
With the strange love that tells us of
Our life, that we refine it.
~Bard D'oiche
(Actually written for a story, and this is only a clip of the very long poem. I'm not a very good poet, so I need some help....
