Bard’s Call

Words were never spoken, but sang aloud,

By bearded fools who tried to arouse crowds,

With stories so far fetched, but great with the rounds

Of ale shared in the covens of the drunken and foul,

 

Where many gathered to laugh and hear the sound,

Of the lute, as it played till the coming of owls,

While the shouting fool told tales of even mystic cows,

Since the crazier the sound, the more they stick around,

Laughing and drinking, tossing coins to the ground,

Filling tabs so high and even the owner is happy and round.

 

Such joy they bring, that downers are bound

To appear to stop the heretic stories from spreading around,

Commanding their lawful spears and vicious hounds,

To take down the heathen, who joyfully clown

And take the coin meant for the chosen and the crown.

 

So, they move around from town to town,

Singing their tunes but never staying around,

Changing routes and confusing the hounds,

With the mix of ales that tend to surround,

liveliest of company that can be found,

and so, they sing forever out loud,

without restrain pleasing the crowds,

with tales full of bravery that inspire the loud,

with tales of mockery that entertained the foul

many tales that evolved with each single sound,

and with each drop ale  that spread the joy around.

By: Jan M. Ramos

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