Music In The Well - By Martins Deep

Music In The Well 

The King swore his end

By kingly power sealed by his signet.

For the blind harpist

Played down the joyful cheers

Into sorrowful tears.

Lords sobbed like lads

While he sang without words.

The queen's soul ran out like a river

Gushing through her eyes.

Cats shivered.

Groanings reached to the darkening skies.

He sang of all that is of men.

He told of worlds and empires broken.

He told of the silence of the grave

Of both the cowards and the brave.

The poets that knew the voice

Bowed before him as to a disguised lord

For a wit unveiled on the tomb of words.

Nobles were drunk more from tears

Than red wine.

There were the Scots, Spaniards and Egyptians.

There were some from Ethiopia and those from the Rhine.

He bled on the harp.

With dirge; a sword mercilessly sharp.

"His music has offended the gods

He must be fed to the maggots!

Take him to the well of Zurich

Where the bones of the wizards of Andorra must teach..."

Unrepentant with adour for his king -

He begged not for his life or nothing.

His pleas went for his harp that wrought the divine spell.

To go down with him into the well.

For him, painless would be death's bitter stings.

For he had wings with music.

Cherubs taught him the mysteries of the strings.

Known by God a saint; by men a blind harpist.

He sang in the well

Till life faded like a misty tale.

His harp played on

Till dust became of the throne.