Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm

That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done

While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow

Till things we've 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 from 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 lion's 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

That's 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 return, but he cannot be bought or sold