The tune wasn't very original- there was a little bit of Twa Corbies in the sound of it and a structure inspired by Henry Lee. Then again, folk songs were never entirely original. It was almost more authentic if it it was patched together from bits and pieces of other songs, held together by pretty words and sordid crimes.
"It's true that I wander the wasteland alone But I've heard it said that my father stayed here I cannot wish death on a town such as this Please spare it, if you'd call this maiden your dear!"
"It's pretty!" said the blonde girl, giddy on drink and music. The Lonesome Drifter put a finger to his lips, though, and she quieted back down.
"Oh wandering maiden, I am a cruel man I've met many people, and I've done them ill I've known many lovers and done what I pleased But you are the first one that I cannot kill.
Wait for me, my maiden, I'll send for you soon And there in my mansion you'll live by my side If you'll have a devil to be your own man Then I'll take you home and I'll make you my bride."
The Lonesome Drifter was no actor, but he did his best when singing about characters. His voice for the wandering maiden was soft and gentle, while his voice for the cruel man was deep and smooth. It was a voice that the blonde seemed to find enchanting, and he couldn't blame her. The cruel man had to be seductive, or there would be no reason for the maiden to love him.
"She heard what he said and she left the saloon The wandering maiden knew what she must do Her heart full of love and her mind full of fear She went to the Sheriff and told what she knew."
He slowed his voice down, drawing out the words of the final verses.
"The cruel man was shot down at twelve o'clock noon Laid low in the streets of the town he would burn He died with a tear and a whisper of love The maiden, she saw this, and she cried in turn.
"I'll wander the wasteland and call no place home I'll live by myself and I'll be no man's wife For though he was wicked, I've sent to his death The man that I'll love for the rest of my life!"
The Lonesome Drifter was quiet at the end of his song, waiting for the blonde's response.
"It doesn't make much sense," she said. "Why would she love a man who she hardly knew? A man who was clearly insane?"
"That's just the way the story goes," he replied. "Love doesn't have to make much sense."
Neither did music. People feared death, but they loved to hear it sung about. Maybe when the war against the Legion was over and done with, he'd find things to sing about amid all the death any battle would cause. Or perhaps not- tawdry murders are more fun than battle scenes.
Though he bid the blonde goodnight, the ballad stayed in his head. When he went to sleep, he dreamed of towns on fire, men dead on the road, and a woman who walked by with the saddest eyes he could have imagined.
Ballad of the Wandering Maiden 2/2
"It's true that I wander the wasteland alone
But I've heard it said that my father stayed here
I cannot wish death on a town such as this
Please spare it, if you'd call this maiden your dear!"
"It's pretty!" said the blonde girl, giddy on drink and music. The Lonesome Drifter put a finger to his lips, though, and she quieted back down.
"Oh wandering maiden, I am a cruel man
I've met many people, and I've done them ill
I've known many lovers and done what I pleased
But you are the first one that I cannot kill.
Wait for me, my maiden, I'll send for you soon
And there in my mansion you'll live by my side
If you'll have a devil to be your own man
Then I'll take you home and I'll make you my bride."
The Lonesome Drifter was no actor, but he did his best when singing about characters. His voice for the wandering maiden was soft and gentle, while his voice for the cruel man was deep and smooth. It was a voice that the blonde seemed to find enchanting, and he couldn't blame her. The cruel man had to be seductive, or there would be no reason for the maiden to love him.
"She heard what he said and she left the saloon
The wandering maiden knew what she must do
Her heart full of love and her mind full of fear
She went to the Sheriff and told what she knew."
He slowed his voice down, drawing out the words of the final verses.
"The cruel man was shot down at twelve o'clock noon
Laid low in the streets of the town he would burn
He died with a tear and a whisper of love
The maiden, she saw this, and she cried in turn.
"I'll wander the wasteland and call no place home
I'll live by myself and I'll be no man's wife
For though he was wicked, I've sent to his death
The man that I'll love for the rest of my life!"
The Lonesome Drifter was quiet at the end of his song, waiting for the blonde's response.
"It doesn't make much sense," she said. "Why would she love a man who she hardly knew? A man who was clearly insane?"
"That's just the way the story goes," he replied. "Love doesn't have to make much sense."
Neither did music. People feared death, but they loved to hear it sung about. Maybe when the war against the Legion was over and done with, he'd find things to sing about amid all the death any battle would cause. Or perhaps not- tawdry murders are more fun than battle scenes.
Though he bid the blonde goodnight, the ballad stayed in his head. When he went to sleep, he dreamed of towns on fire, men dead on the road, and a woman who walked by with the saddest eyes he could have imagined.