Baskadia

In days of yore, when knights were bold,

And tales of chivalry were told,

A tale of love, of bravery too,

In ballad style, I'll sing to you.

Upon a hill, a castle grand,

Stood tall and proud, its banners branded,

There lived a lord, a noble man,

Whose heart was true, his spirit grand.

His eyes they fell upon a maid,

Her beauty matched the summer's shade,

Her laughter like the tinkling sound,

Of streams that flowed on hallowed ground.

The lord, he sought to win her heart,

With verses sweet, his love impart,

He sang of stars, of skies so blue,

Of everlasting love for her, and for me and you.

But ere his love could be returned,

A shadow fell, a tale unlearned,

For the maid, she held a secret deep,

A secret that her heart would keep.

For in her veins, a curse did lie,

A curse that bound her to the sky,

A curse that said she'd never stay,

In one place for the rest of her days.

The lord, he wept, his heart in pain,

He vowed to break the curse again,

He'd climb the highest mountain peak,

And face the gods, for love so meek.

Through forests dark, and rivers wide,

He journeyed on, his love his guide,

He reached the summit, looked above,

And called upon the gods to love.

The gods, they heard his plea so true,

And saw his love, his heart so pure,

They lifted the curse from her heart,

And granted her a new start.

Now free from chains that bound her soul,

The maiden returned to the fold,

To the lord, her love, her heart's desire,

Together they'd live, hand in hand, admire.

And so, the tale of love and strife,

Ends with a happy, peaceful life,

A love that conquered all, it's true,

In ballad style, the story grew.