Words and Music: David R. Watson (Iolo Fitz Owen)
Oh, the Baron of Eastmarch's fair sorcerous daughter
Was enamored unseemly with the fool of her lord.
Though her duke was deemed handsome he'd a soul vain and petty,
And a dark mind as empty as last summer's gourd.
Now the fool, he was clever and he sang for the lady,
Like a nightingale piping in a green forest hall,
But his station was lowly and his body was aging,
And their love was as hopeless as if he were stone.
So the lady has led them, the fool and her husband,
To her cool, secret garden by the Midsummer's moon,
And she's danced them a spell there of shifting and changing,
And left them dumbfounded by sorcery's boon.
She has left the fool crying to the gods of his fathers,
She has led her duke laughing to her high chamber door,
And shes kept him there softly through two day's bright dawnings,
While her servants all gossiped in wonder and awe.
Now the fool died in madness, saying he was ensorceled,
And the duke only smiled him a sad, secret smile.
Now the duke rules his people with wit and good humor
And he sings for his lady like the nightingale's song.
And she's borne him five children, two sons and three daughters,
And they've grown straight and handsome, and sorcerers all,
And they dance in the garden and sing in the moonlight,
Like a nightingale piping in a green forest hall.