I'd sing this. She is that minstrel specially when it comes to the last verse.

Minstrel      Graham & Eileen Pratt

I sang my song at Hasting's Battle
To praise the deeds of Charlemagne
I sang of Arthur and of Roland
That man remember their great fame
I sang to rouse a sinking nation
That king and man might never yield
But when the battle cry was over
We all lay dead on Hasting's field

I sang my song to conquer loved ones
I sold my voice to him who paid
To sing his lady gentle love songs
And lend his passion subtle shade
And when my silver throated praises
At last did melt her heart of stone
He paid me and they both departed
And left me there to sing alone

I sang my song at fair and market
A song much bawdier than before
Amid the pigs and the geese and the cattle
I sought to please the crown once more
I sang to win applause and favour
Songs of the cuckold and the whore
And though I gladly took there money
I missed the songs I'd sung before


I sang my song in times of anger
And found new purpose in my rhyme
At kings and queens I'd point the finger
And bid them see the nation's crimes
How bitterly did I condemn them
All those the left the poor oppressed
But the time was not yet ripe for changes
We hung at Tyburne with the rest

I sang my song in mill and pulpit
Me voice all cracked with dust and fume
I took me tune from the factory siren
And I took me rhythm from the loom
And whether anybody listened
Or paid attention I can't say
But I couldn't stand the smoke in the chimney
So I packed me bags and moved away

My eyes are tired my voice grows weary
My aging memory nearly gone
I've sung my song for lord and lady
I've sung it too for common man
Until there's no more time for singing
Until we reach the story's end
I'll always find the strength within
To rise and sing my song again