Cheerful Dirge

(álbum: Theatre Of Tragedy - 1995)

Hap mirthfulness! Oh! joy of grand riddance
Undress me my hauberk! the wyern hath errant'd

Ire of yore bard of e'eryears
I deem the brood hath wan'd fore'ermore?

Fro the chasm of the bosom, bale a hand back
Hark! my dove henceforth I bulwark thee
Teathers of swans in my pillow I cede my heart
Make haste! I pray respond my plea

Lo! a sire of great awe a knight of many battles

...And of kinsmen weeping for the slain
Please! heed my words
In thy sorrow I will kiss thy tears
In thy bliss I will take thee by thy hand
The sapor of grapes thou shalt savor
And harken the nightingale sing oh so blithely

On his knees... A plea to harvest roses
No heed for the thorns you count
Wherefore vow me?
Wherefore this gilded proffer?
Wherefore not pay court to a maid more fair?
Morn of a joyous day! Hower 'twixt weed
Fertile desert! Cheerful dirge
Misery me not! man nor beast, envy me
Lest'tis an act of wont
Many are the drapes that my past bury
Ineffable feeling indulgeth in battles

Tisn't what thou vambrace'st thy words with
I bethink dotingly only thy weal
Forgive me for deeming thee direfully
Therein abdiding with thee
Yet I was a trifle daunt'd
Is for me the grandest boon