I am a lady slight and small,
Where do you keep your beer?
I’ll harp and sing in any hall,
I’d rather have some beer.
Though men reward me when I sing,
These gentles know not what to bring.
I’ll sing no drinking song for you,
Until I get some beer!
The jewel of the sky has turned to steel.
As I watch my lover’s form recede I feel
The wind cut through my hollow body like an empty, longing ache.
“Come back!” I cry, too late with my appeal.
Though he’ll return to me, I long have known,
His scars have blinded him to why he is my own.
Can he yet feel my jealous fingers fight the wind to touch his hair,
But never see how fair my love has grown?
My scorching lips he feels against his face,
And never understands his beauty fuels their blaze.
