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Picture Credits:
The sky is my blanket,
My pillow, a stone,
I wander the landscape,
Don’t sit on a throne.
With Troubadour music,
I sing songs of love,
Of beautiful maidens,
As pure as the dove.
With countenance fair,
They live among Lords,
As knights in white armour,
Protect them with swords.
I sing of the Baron,
Who owns all the land,
While tax from his Serfdom,
Is what he demands.
I sing of confusion,
I sing of despair,
With people going hungry,
With nothing to wear.
I make fun of Kingdoms,
And mostly of Kings,
As common folk listen,
They’re lifted on wings.
Forgetting their troubles,
At least for a time,
This Troubadour music,
Is truly sublime.
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