The troubadour |
The tales of bold and galant knights, the fearless battles they would fight |
These are the stories he'd recite – the troubadour |
The many tidings he would bring about some poor and lonely king |
Would never see another spring – the troubadour |
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A minstrel man of days gone by who gave the ladies all the eye |
All knew just how to make them sigh – the troubadour, the troubadour |
He'd gently lure them to a glade where he would sing his serenade |
And woo a many a fare young maid – the troubadour, the troubadour |
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La lalala lala lailala lailala... |
La lala lailala la... |
La lalala lala lailala lailala... |
La lala lailala la... |
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He would steal their hearts away, then greet the dawning of the day |
In some small village far away – the troubadour |
There, once again he'd sing a song about some war that had been won |
His voice would ring out clear and strong – the troubadour |
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And as he drew his public near, he gave them what they came to hear |
He sang of love and life and fear – the troubadour, the troubadour |
He'd recall a gruesome tale, perhaps of Jonah and the whale |
And make his audience all grow pale – the troubadour, the troubadour |
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But when he felt things goin' wrong, it never lasted very wrong |
For he would start a funny song – the troubadour |
Music and words – witty and kind, this minstrel man has left behind |
Perhaps some day again you'll find the troubadour |
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Oh oh... la lalala lala lailala lailala... |
La lala lailala la... |
La lalala lala lailala lailala... |
La lala lailala la... |
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Oh oh... la lalala lala lailala lailala... |
La lala lailala la... |
La lalala lala lailala lailala... |
La lala lailala la... |
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The troubadour |