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The wolf crouched low beneath the tree
and howled of white man's bones,
small birds were sleeping as I flee
the dissonance of tones.
I have, now left our wilderness
she drew me with her eyes,
the promise of a fleeting kiss
the end of thoughtful lies.
I stand, without an instrument
and look up to her room,
though not in a predicament
as sounds displace all doom.
I own a little heartsichord
it only plays for you
I also brought my trusty sword
and painted myself blue.
Gendarmes abound here, in your town
they will not pounce on me,
in blue I look just like a clown
I need my liberty.
So if your ears are kind enough
to open to my songs,
my words, so many off the cuff
will never right no wrongs,
but if you wish and do not mind
I shall be here and play
all melodies that I can find
before I go away.
I hope you like my heartsichord
it's not a masquerade,
perhaps a trifle overboard,
I wrote this serenade.
Herbert Nehrlich
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