“I am a bard, a trav’ling man,
In homes and inns I sing.
I tell the tales of history,
Of heroes and of kings.
I never deigned to read or write.
I’m not a learn-ed man.
But in my endless pilgrimage,
I have learned all I can.
My words are now for you to read,
My thoughts are on the page.
Fear of losing my audience,
Strikes me in my old age.
It is time the world knew again,
How and why it was born.
And just who is the chosen race,
And who deserves our scorn.
I sing the lessons taught by gods,
I sing them for my kin,
So that we might be the holy,
and leave the rest to sin.”
The Women of the Lakes
(more later)