Song

The cold, oh! The cold, it bites
All around me and in my young heart
Chill me, burn me, break me, take me
The sorrow runs deep as the frosty waves below, pounding and harsh.

Alone, so cold and alone. 
Bitter winds sweep around my thin skirt, I am a glacial stone
Yet, in the apathies of this curse, I sense one thing
The rough yet warm cloth wraps around me

Rat-tat-tat goes the sound of feet

dancing to the drums of her own beat

Lah-oh-lah goes the warbling song

of a Goose who's name is Swan

Tra-la, oh-lay!

Now a song shall play!

Oh-lah, ho-hay!

Here she comes, now pray!

No fair white maiden is she, oh no, no!

Fury and fire in her brown eyes, glow

You'd better watch out, all you Noldor fair

Or precious things she'll snatch from your hair!

Tra-la, oh-lay!

Fire, terror, destroys my home and plunders

A dark shadow, dark lover, pulls me under

I was happy, then I was lost

I was glorious, then I was rot

Regrets are my friends

I remember the bitter end

I carry on these long months

I feel despair, can I have it my way for once?

My house is crumbled, my crafts are stolen

All I have built up has been torn down, fallen

In need of power, ring of flounder

All I have built up is nothing but ground powder

Do you spread joy, or seek to annoy?

Diddle-liddle-dee! My, you are free!

Tick of the clock or click of the tongue?

Tick-click-tock! Just a bit of fun!

Sweet as nectar, nay, you are better!

Diddle-liddle-dee! Fly off like a bee!

Stomp of the foot or beat of a drum?

Lament of a Rider

1. The Rider’s Journey

~The Song of Tinnurion~

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From fair free lands, from far froathy waters - wreathing, rounding rocks - the wayward wind comes a-writhing

From dankest dells, from dim deeps - drowneds’ dusky dwelling - it’s shadow spins a solemn story, now screaming shrilly, now sleeping soundly

”Come o wanderer-wind, come tell thine thrilling tidings!”

As I walked out o'er the Greenway Bridge on a misty morning early,

I overheard a fair pretty maid cryin' for the life of her Geordie.

'Saddle me a milk-white steed, bridle me a pony,'

'And I'll ride down to yon Bree-town to plead for the life of my Geordie.'

When she came to the courthouse steps, the watchmen there were many

She's passed them each a bright gold coin, so they'd let her walk in for her Geordie. 

'He never stole a mule or a mare, he never murdered any.'

A song recently heard in a tavern in Dale, accompanied by a simple, a slow but upbeat tune played on a lute by a foreigner.

The lass I love lives far away,

O'er mountains, through the wood,

How many miles I cannot say,

I’d be there now if I could.

Her skin is pale her hair is red,

Like fire in the evening light, 

I only wish to be in bed,

Beside her on this very night.

Her eyes they glisten pale and blue,

Each a bright and dazzling star,