The Lutenist (In Memory of Randomonlooker)
Ah, joyous lute within the square,
The player hidden from our sight,
Sends serenades of music fair
And plays unto his heart's delight.
Re-mi-re-mi-sol, re-mi-re-mi-sol.
Ah, loving lute, with roses trimm'd,
With passion for a lady rings,
The player's heart calls out undimm'd,
In clarion voice, the player sings:
Re-mi-re-mi-sol, re-mi-re-mi-sol.
Ah, weeping lute, from far away,
The player cries, "the end is nigh,"
One final song of life he'll play,
Then end it with a mortal sigh.
Re-me-re-me-sol, re-me-re-me-sol.
Ah, Silent lute, on willow hung,
The bell has rung its final knell;
A final requiem to be sung
By she who knew the player well.
Re-me-re-me-sol, re-me-re-me-sol.