i am a wandering troubadour
traveling from town to town
i long for a lady’s soft amour
but receive a burgomaster’s frown
i grieve for the glorious days of yore
when gallantry ruled the earth
for heroic knighthood my heart is sore
though i be of humble birth
how little joy to walk a land
in which poetry never flowers
where love must tremble at the priest’s raised hand
and mammon cruelly glowers
o black-clad men of reason
who lay waste to the woods and fields
in what untimely season
must you set wolves on a poet’s heels?
we are on this earth to love
and for no other cause
no angels line the skies above
to enforce your cruel laws
i am a wandering troubadour
traveling from town to town
i long for a lady’s soft amour
but receive a burgomaster’s frown
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