In the same vein as the ramblings of Swashbuckling, rum-guzzling
Pirates; a journey to Delos brought me face to face with a Bardic mute
who, in spite of his inability to utter a single word, conveyed the
following song quite eloquently...


Oh if I could sing to you
A song of bitter woe
Your ears I'd bend with tenor voice
Or baritone, soft and low.
But I am cursed to share my art
In letters on the page
And never sing rich melodies
Or climb the Theatre Stage.

For I'm the voiceless Bard of Delos,
Since birth a toneless mute;
I use my lips for sipping ale.
To sing, I play my Lute.

If I'd a voice to sing to you
An airy desert Maqam,
You'd stumble as if awe-struck
By my eloquent aplomb.
I'd charm the nearest pony
And set his hooves a-dancing.
With a strident March, I'd sing
And join him gaily prancing.

But I'm the voiceless Bard of Delos,
And though I can not sing,
I use my lips for sipping ale.
I strum my Lute's bright strings.

If you could hear me Yodel
With a loud and steady warble,
I'd turn every crystal forest
Into a crystal pile of marbles.
My Tremolos would shatter limbs
Although that's not so nice.
I'd belt out a rich Vibrato too,
For just a little spice.

An Auralbless,
I must confess,
Would keep your attention fully vested.

If I could weave a picture
With my voice, I'd not be rude.
I'd serve up pints to all my mates
With a deceptive Prelude.
I'd recite an Epic
Till you were as stiff as board,
Or hum a little Ditty
Till the seizures had you floored.

For I'm the voiceless Bard of Delos,
But if I had a song,
I'd put down my mug of ale
And sing the whole day long.



Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Daedalan, in the year 395 AF.