A crackling fire cast's its shadow,
The minstrel melodically plays his lyre.
Bringing us to an ancient meadow,
where there isn't a hint of fear.
The song he sings is a song of old,
passed down through the generations.
It is amongst the shadows, this story is told,
Sung proudly with nary a hint of reservation.
The meadow is of an ancient land,
chasing after a trickling stream.
winding around a world so grand,
The Minstrel's song, like a pleasant dream.
His melodic tune brings ancient worlds alive,
As he paints with music a pleasant scene.
It is his passion which fuels his drive,
To bring to us all that is unseen.