O Suleiman bin Iskander, O shining star of generosity,
With your hands, glory rises, and joy lights the halls.
You set up sites and adorn the lands, like a gentle breeze that swiftly blows.
You stand unwavering, your presence a beacon of light.
And upon the vast web of the unseen world, you weave a path for those who stray.
How could we not honor the hands that assist setting up greatness and build memories?
So take, O noble one, the Silver Wheel, a radiant gift most deserved by hands of Demon-King of the Three Heavens Reborn and Maharani Indrakshi, Horned Queen of the Night Sky.
As of AS 59 at the Crown Tournament by Rapier Convention, you too may display this honor.
I wrote this… I wrote all of this. Putting out songs of my own are terrifying. It took me until now to finally feel comfortable enough to publish this. This isn’t the best recording but that’s ok. Folks came in late, a spider was taken off me while performing BUT! people sang along. That is why I felt like posting this. I hope this song becomes an anthem for the Bards. This is about who sings for us when we are gone. Think a-la Hamilton, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Their Stories”. Be brave. Sing your songs unashamedly.
Video taken by Jasmine Rochelle Goodspeed
I dreamt of a day when you sang a song The song was spun for me Instead of painting a warriors skills Bardic tales were their decree
I hoped for the day when lauds and praise For those who most enchant Not the stories and words of those who berserked Spoken out for those who can’t
Who will sing my song when I’m gone? Who will tell my story? Who’ll remember the days And sing of the praise Of the minstrel’s memory
If you would walk the streets at night Or at a meal or ale Hark! To those who weave the myths Sing for them a jaunt wassail
Know you the tales of great Arthur You have heard of Lancelot Epic deeds rhymed in memory fair But the bringers oft forgot
Chorus x2
The sun will rise and the moon will fall As time will wane and pass To the memory of those before We all should raise a glass
To the bringers of the melody When their bodies live no more A chorus sung to bring their name And conjure spirits to restore
Meddlings of the Minnesinger 