My grasp of the French language is embarrasingly crappy, luckily I have a friend who was able to translate for me... very good. Anyway here's another one I came up with this morning.

Old Hugh's lament

Once into the tavern, there walked a lone youth,
With flute, harp and smile telling tales of false truths,
He sang songs of malice, of love, hope and trust
Of high deeds and low deeds and deeds of black lust.

Rising up from the table, came lonely old Hugh,
Wrinkled and crinkled with eyes gummed with glue,
But yearning arose in him to hear with old ears,
The tales of his youth and his faraway years.

“Hum me a tune of yesteryears days,
Of blind broken promises and old empty graves,
Of heroes and heroines, so swift and so strong,
For those are the tales for which I do long.”

And sing did the youth, with his voice high and true,
His hymn filled the soul and it silenced the room,
And men sat and gazed in wonder and awe,
Whilst old Hugh did weep and sink to the floor.

And from that day forward no more would Hugh speak,
For the wondrous song had left his life bleak,
And so my dear readers my warning is near,
That some songs are dangerous for those that would hear.


You sit there in your comfort, you don't believe I'm real. But you cannot buy protection from the way that I feel!