Among our ranks was an esteemed singer
His songs were sweet and his voice did linger
A minstrel was he and well known throughout
He song quite lucid, his message devout
A stallion he sat on, with lute in hand
He sang of dark tales across the land
Clothed in garbs of vibrant green robes
In his pockets he carries a journal of hopes
A deeply superstitious man was he
A talented man - he sang in degrees
Many have said that when he sang & played
His songs of darkness would make folks afraid
His songs of sadness would make people weep
and his sweet lullabies would put them to sleep
All in all he was a righteous fellow
With lute in hand, and songs so mellow