The Minstrel's Song

Alan-a-Dale with lute in hand,

He wandered through the glen,

His melodies could charm the land,

And lift the hearts of men.

Through Sherwood’s trees his music rang,

A silver thread of cheer,

It made the weary robbers dance,

And robbed the outlaw’s fear.

He sang of love, of battles won,

Of kings and ladies fair,

His notes could warm the coldest heart,

And lighten every care.

So when the moon lights Robin’s band,

And bowstrings hum their tune,

You’ll hear a minstrel in the night,

Beneath the silver moon.