Chapter Text
Tomorrow I wed some noble wench,
With silken hands and breath like stench.
But before I vow, before I kneel,
I’ve one last truth I must unseal.
A blacksmith’s daughter from that ash-born vale,
Pulled up my hose and split the grail.
She said, “I feel quite hungry, mate,”
But it weren’t stew she put on her plate.
In Talmberg’s woods or Rattay’s gate,
She’ll bend me low and seal my fate.
She says, “Just helping, m’lord, that’s all,”
While pounding me against the wall.
She mounts like she’s been taught by war,
Each thrust a blow, each gasp a roar.
She whispered filth behind the trees,
Then left me limping at the knees.
But damn this lie, this tale I weave
Of “blacksmith’s girl” I must believe.
For if they knew the truth, dear friend,
This tale would meet a burning end.
So let them toast, and let them cheer,
While I sit stiff in wedding gear.
And you my blacksmith’s girl, my sin
Stay just beyond the churchyard’s grin.
But if you feel a whisper near,
A shadow close, a silent tear
That’s me, my love, behind the pew,
Still wanting you.
Still aching.
Still true.