Abigail's Songbook

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

My Apology

   

So an apology’s asked for,

 

Well then you’ll get that and much more.

 

For my art at song I shall say,

 

I’m quite sorry, but if I may,

   

I cannot help that I’ve talent,

 

Which in other bards is quite absent.

 

Perhaps from now I’ll sing off key,

 

Just wail and cry like a banshee.

   

But even then I’m quite afraid,

 

That it would be a pale charade.

 

Skill like mine one just cannot hide,

 

And all would still see if I tried.

   

That though I’d try to sing poorly,

 

Other bards would be moody.

 

For my song would dwarf all others,

 

Despite granting you your druthers.

   

About my obvious allure,

 

Legs and breasts so many adore.

 

And a rump for which men have died.

 

I see no reason I should hide.

   

I’m sorry if I cause to pale,

 

And make my bardic friends seem stale.

 

Am I to deny Sune’s gifts?

 

I daresay she would be damned miffed!

   

So please, my friends, I say again,

 

I’m sorry for my ruthless reign.

 

From now I’ll smile and grant my grace,

 

And laugh at your vain, hopeless chase.

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

A Ring of Gold

   

I had thought once that I loved you,

 

As we stood beneath bold skies blue.

 

Your whispers were sweet to my ear,

 

You gently held my frail heart dear.

   

Our end came swiftly and dire,

 

As life tossed upon the pyre.

 

And now all the world glows orange,

 

A ring of gold lost in our plunge.

   

Was I a blind fool to listen,

 

Holding pretty roses crimson.

 

But did not the roses still sting?

 

And did not the robins take wing?

   

Our end came swiftly and dire,

 

As life tossed upon the pyre.

 

And now all the world glows orange,

 

A ring of gold lost in our plunge.

   

I saw you tangled in her legs,

 

To my knees I drop, my heart begs.

 

You betray our love, all is red,

 

Now cold runs my blood, love has fled.

   

Our end came swiftly and dire,

 

As life tossed upon the pyre.

 

And now all the world glows orange,

 

A ring of gold lost in our plunge.

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

Fey Embraces

   

When I was a silly girl, of elves I did dream,

 

Their grace, beauty and wit would cause my loins to steam.

 

But little of them did I see ‘til far astream,

 

One fateful day in deep woods, through boughs he did gleam.

   

My noble elf approached, a creature of such grace,

 

He smiled warm at me, and set my heart to race.

 

Without a word he neared, gentle hand to my face,

 

With long arms he drew me into his fey embrace.

   

Passion made my legs weak, but my elf held me tight,

 

My breath left me then as I dreamt of coming night.

 

From shoulders my blouse slipped, and my head it felt light,

 

My hands slid to his waist, and trembled with delight.

   

Trousers unbuttoned slow to spy his mighty tree,

 

But when I peered inside, the axe had beaten me.

 

Within there were but plains, no foliage did I see,

 

For to my great despair, my he-elf was a she!

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

To the Sea

   

A Maiden threatened to corrupt all,

 

Her tendrils reaching Colony walls.

 

Foul Nightrisers slew both young and old,

 

No hope was left, bold hearts ran cold.

   

All that seemed left was to flee afar,

 

To set sail swift, led by shelt’ring stars.

 

So a fleet of rag tag ships set out,

 

Led by Captain Roose, with brave heart stout.

   

Away, away, to the sea they fled,

 

Away, away, from dark shores of red.

   

Crying screaming for a place aboard,

 

Each ship o’er-filled by the frightened horde.

 

Voices of children filled the salt air,

 

New hope for life lit young faces fair.

   

Danger they faced, a naval blockade,

 

Old Port would sink any ship that strayed.

 

Through night they slipped led by Captain Roose,

 

In the dark they’d sneak past false Count’s noose.

   

Away, away, to the sea they fled,

 

Away, away, from dark shores of red.

   

The ragged ships, simple fishers’ most,

 

Sail slow, sunlight slipped above the coast.

 

Dark shapes converged, flame filled the sky,

 

Decks and sails lit bright, hope burned and died.

   

Small voices that filled the air with life,

 

Silenced now upon a sea of strife.

 

Perched on stolen throne in dark Old  Port,

 

The mirthless smiled in a puppet court.

   

Away, away, to the sea they fled,

 

Away, away, to depths of the dead.

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

Gold From Another

   

Listen, can you hear the voice on the wind,

 

The words, the whispers, of she who has sinned.

 

Love turning jealous, entwined hearts that choke,

 

Mist trails from shoulders, follows like a cloak.

   

It was only a gift, or was it more?

 

He found it hidden, bottom of top drawer.

 

Gold glittering deep amongst the silk fine,

 

Gold from another has an evil shine.

   

Two they did wander beneath boughs that grasp,

 

One did return clutching a golden clasp.

 

Twas all that was seen of her from that day,

 

Ne’er did he speak of her going away.

   

Only the Mist to witness a love’s end,

 

The roots cannot sing of who they attend.

 

Fine gold held in hand cannot tell a tale,

 

Of hearts that darken when the jealous fail.

   

Still to this day he wears the golden clasp,

 

It seems just a trinket, none know to ask.

 

Of gold turning red under swirling oak,

 

Mist trails from shoulders, follows like a cloak

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

Gold From Another

   

Listen, can you hear the voice on the wind,

 

The words, the whispers, of she who has sinned.

 

Love turning jealous, entwined hearts that choke,

 

Mist trails from shoulders, follows like a cloak.

   

It was only a gift, or was it more?

 

He found it hidden, bottom of top drawer.

 

Gold glittering deep amongst the silk fine,

 

Gold from another has an evil shine.

   

Two they did wander beneath boughs that grasp,

 

One did return clutching a golden clasp.

 

Twas all that was seen of her from that day,

 

Ne’er did he speak of her going away.

   

Only the Mist to witness a love’s end,

 

The roots cannot sing of who they attend.

 

Fine gold held in hand cannot tell a tale,

 

Of hearts that darken when the jealous fail.

   

Still to this day he wears the golden clasp,

 

It seems just a trinket, none know to ask.

 

Of gold turning red under swirling oak,

 

Mist trails from shoulders, follows like a cloak

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

A Brave Knight’s Attire

   

There was a brave knight from days of yore,

 

Famed for a quite unique thing he wore.

 

Twas not steel shining so very bright,

 

Twas not a sharp sword fit for a knight.

 
 

A cloak of white silk, trimmed in fine fur,

 

Were not his, twas wool he did prefer.

 

His spurs, beautiful spurs! Shining gold!

 

In fact our hero’s were worn and old.

 
 

Though he wore a plume so very red,

 

So did many others, so it’s said.

 

And he might have had whiskers so thick,

 

But so did Gregory, Mark and Dick.

   

Perhaps a helmet, enameled rich,

 

Shining bright, oh the eyes they’d bewitch.

 

But I’m afraid this just isn’t true,

 

His helm more a bucket for beef stew.

   

A lock of hair from a lady fair!

 

I’m afraid not, for to this I swear.

 

Twas no pretty maid to darken his door,

 

Twas only stable boys, numbered four.

   

So what, you ask, could this famed thing be?

 

What in the Realms could be so unique.

 

I’ll tell you then before we all leave,

 

This brave knight wore his heart on his sleeve.

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

Pull on Your Pink Robes

 
 

Hello from up here you little gnats,

 

Nothing more to us than wee white rats.

 

Should you see me smile twas only chance,

 

Pull on your pink robes and dance, dance, dance.

   

So I hear your poor wife is quite ill,

 

I’ve a potion that I can distill.

 

But you’ll need to pay far in advance,

 

Pull on your pink robes and dance, dance, dance.

   

I ask you, sirrah, how goes your day?

 

Come join me, please, we’ll have times quite gay.

 

It shows in your eyes you want to prance,

 

Pull on your pink robes and dance, dance, dance.

   

I’ve a gift for you, set on your head,

 

It’ll squeeze your brain, leave you quite dead.

 

Don’t mind that, your cock it will enhance,

 

Pull on your pink robes and dance, dance, dance.

 
 

Dark runes we write while vile words we shout.

 

Waving wiggly wands and books devout.

 

With the Misty past we do romance,

 

Pull on your pink robes and dance, dance, dance.

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

Baron Abdul Dabulldull Ameer

   

When burrows are dark and gnomes bed down,

 

And quiet falls o’er fair little towns.

 

Stories are told, but one more than most,

 

‘Bout a Baron, a hero, they boast.

   

Baron Abdul Dabulldull Ameer,

 

With a nose no others could come near.

 

A lance which foes of gnome-dom did fear,

 

Five kobolds a’time he’d neatly spear.

   

With a mustache so fine, thick and long,

 

If thought a badger you’d not be wrong.

 

For just like our fair, fine, furry friend,

 

Snarling from lip where it would suspend.

   

Baron Abdul Dabulldull Ameer,

 

With a nose no others could come near.

 

Unless, by choice, the Baron should veer,

 

And honker should hook gnome maid’s brassier.

 
 

All who might fill his people with dread,

 

Would find the gaze of fierce eyes red.

 

But those who would sing a jaunty tune,

 

Would espy his jig, and the gals swoon.

   

Baron Abdul Dabulldull Ameer,

 

With a nose no others could come near.

 

Nine months after Abdul would appear,

 

Wee gnomes arrive with snouts quite like spears.

[HaveLuteWillTravel]

A Message to Boris

Well hello there, Boris dear,

You truly need not so fear,

And try to scare brave Mistlocke,

With boasts ‘bout your tiny cock.

You see we’re quite wise to you,

Your strength is a grifter’s brew.

For no more come from Old Port,

You’re alone on Ymph, old sport.

I’ll tell you what you can do,

Take to sea and bid adieu.

For Mistlocke you cannot tame,

I promise I’ll stoke your fame.

As a man who grasped too far,

Out of reach that Ruby star.

For red bleeds when in the Mist,

As faded pink does it exist.

So come along, bring your worst,

Into the fray, leap headfirst.

Your head will look so fine,
 Piked on this road, your own shrine!