I just sang some song about slaying a dragon
I've ne'er before actually seen.
The audience cheers, and they tip by the flagon,
Of precious mind-blackening mead.
A child approaches, eyes glossy and gleaming;
He smiles when he looks up at me
He says "I know some tunes on my grandfather's lute
And one day I'll be just like thee!"
"Sing us a song, dear bard, weave us a tale!
Tell us how good people always prevail!
Play as a ditty, we'll pay from the tap
And after, you'll feast from our scraps!"
Tell you the truth, kid, the story's a lie,
Ten fools fight a dragon and nine of them die!
The world is a death trap that no one survives
And bards are the lowest alive.
I sing out my heart to the gathering crowd,
Night after night, but the quiet gets louder and louder!
I once was so joyous and proud,
And now I sleep under the clouds.
Bards are all beggars, the rest of us thiefs,
For we are the wastes that society leaves!
Our lungs full of song, and our bellies of air,
But kid, that's just life, it ain't fair.
The child runs off crying and leaves me alone;
I gulp down the rest of my mead.
The patrons all gawk, and they scoff, and they grown,
But I bite every hand that don't feed
Take it from me, folks, if you want to fester
And rot with the rest on the street,
Pick up a lyre with the liars and jesters
We'll sing some more songs we can't eat.
