Let my inspiration flow, in token rhyme suggesting rhythm
That will not forsake me, till my tale is told and done
While the fire lights aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow
Till things weve never seen will seem familiar
Shadows of a sailor forming winds both foul and fair, all swarm
Down in Carlisle he loved a lady many years ago
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier by the looks of him
Who came through many fights, but lost at love
While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair
She takes her fan and throws it in the lions den
Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance
The sailor gave at least a try; the soldier, being much too wise
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster
The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him
Thats how it stands today. You decide if he was wise
The story teller makes no choice, soon you will not hear his voice
His job is to shed light, and not to master
Since the end is never told we pay the teller off in gold
In hopes he will come back, but he cannot be bought or sold