Sung by the Bard Leslac.
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The baroness's sister has saved me from a fate
Of poverty and misery too wretched to relate
Of un-appreciation, of ingratitude for art
Oh, she gave me joy and comfort when she gave her hand and cash–heart.
For many years I wandered in the service of my muse
I sang to all who'd listen, playing any song they'd choose
I sang for high and lowly for humble coin and beer (?)
I sang my best creations and they rarely chose to hear.
I sang of my heart's lady, a mage's warrior maid
I sang of her adventures and my songs were ill-repaid
For her heart was cold and haughty, she never would reply
I swear she'd never notice if I pine away and die.
I sang of noble heroes with cunning words and fine
I made their reputations and they never thought of mine
I glorified their exploits and they never did repay
They cried exaggeration and they bade me go away.
Thus, sighing ‘neath the burden of the world's ingratitude
I came unto this fabled land and a lady there I wooed
I sang of her fair beauty and at last they'd smile on me
My love at last accepted; we were wed by shotguns-a king's decree.
The baroness's sister, my lady, Reine, so fair
I could sing for hours of her white hands, her shining eyes and hair
Indeed, I often do so, for she never seems to tire
Of hearing how her beauty is the whole of my desire.
But rather, let me praise her for her generosity
In granting love, and home, and lands to a humble lad like me
And thus I glorify her each day with harp and flute
With voice and cello only, for she cannot bear my lute.
The baroness's sister so mature, and rich and sweet
Raised up this humble minstrel lad to sit here at her feet
So all ye starving artists, now hear me and take heart
Let not the world discourage unappreciated art.