Ye Brave Troubadour by Mbo

In the golden days of yore 
In a simple time that is no more 
There was a lively troubadour 
Who loved to turn a tune 

He lived for many kinds of song 
From galliards to ballads long 
And never known to play a note wrong 
Under the sun or under the moon 

He was the knight's and guard's delight 
They all rejoiced at just one sight 
In the dark there burned a light 
Of intellect and wit 

A large, round, tawny lute he played 
A great one he himself had made 
With fancy-crafted wood inlayed 
And for it, many works were writ 

At the castle, at the fort 
He even graced the King's own court 
With songs and dances of every sort 
Never would he quit 

And when the King went off to war 
With soldiers, knights, squires, and more 
They took the lively troubadour 
With them on their way 

On a horse's back he spent 
Playing marches as they went 
And at night, in his tent 
The soldiers came to hear him play 

And when a heavy fight ensued 
To his lute he stayed glued 
With his tunes he set the mood 
Above the battle's roar 

But alas! An arrow stray 
Pierced him in an awful way 
Prostrate on the ground he lay 
The lively singer was no more 

The noble soldiers, with honor due 
Erected there, a statue to 
The courageous little lutenist who 
Had died in glory, brave and true. 

Matthew Richards