Gerald Brennan—composer, lyricist, singer
I wrote this in the musical style of an old English lute-song. I even wanted the lyrics to suggest that day and age.
Nature beat this guy up. He likes this girl, a bad girl, and under the spell of a warm night even the birds were egging him on.
She accepted him and they did the dance of love, and it all seemed to be going so well, but on the sly she was putting out for every peasant and lord in the shire.
He figured it out. Eventually. But he’ll never forget — she was the best he ever had.
The grass was aglimmer in shimmering dew.
I did what the nightingale bade me to do.
I asked for your love and so you took me to bed,
we lay with the stars and bright moon overhead.
I lived in a dream-world and I would not see,
the ways you were scheming and lying to me.
Your words were like honey but your soul is untrue,
so I know your heart now, and what I must do.
Farewell, farewell, I go toward my calling
but nevermore as a fool for love.
The sparkling dew will cast a spell,
beware the lies that the birds will tell.
You wanted the moon and I gave you a rose,
for that is how anything beautiful grows.
Farewell, farewell, the roses are dying.
Myself is the winter.
My springtime was you.