Sung to the tune of “The Lost Child of Winter”

Along the road I saw a bird singing in the morning.

Her song was clear and to my soul her voice was very charming.

Along the road. Along the road. Into the sky she’s soaring.

Along the road. Along the road. The lyre she was playing.

And then a king of greedy heart he heard the lovely singing.

He grabbed the bird and in a cage he set about a locking.

And then a king. And then a king. To the queen was pleasing.

And then a king. And then a king. The lyre she was giving.

After a time the singing bird she felt like she was dying.

Her pleas and tears they fell upon a heart that was unbending.

After a time. After a time.  I heard her child was crying.

After a time. After a time. The lyre she was fading.

Around her neck the king had placed a collar that was choking.

He made her sing her song again but danger now was growing.

Around her neck. Around her neck. The tables they were turning.

Around her neck. Around her neck. The lyre she was burning.

Along the road I saw a light that through the night was shining

And in the music of the night her freedom she was making.

Along the road. Along the road. I saw a castle tumbling.

Along the road. Along the road. The lyre she was breaking. 

• The Tale of Thaylia as recited by Irving Maybell, traveling bard.