Текст песни A Hamlet for a Slothful Vassal - Theatre of Tragedy

Behold a jocund morn indeed
Sun on high, birds in sky
Yonder the whist firth eathing
Fro where a gale erranteth

Oh, that is a lie (ye beholdest but the shadow)
Lief I am not (mayhap a tithe of trothplight, I deem)
My words are but a twist (e′er and anon)
'Tis a feigned lie through loathing, I say

To and fro, save hither, is thy love
A dotard gaffer, I daresay
Not a loth, but vying for my kinsmen
A sapling not

Beautiful tyrant
Fiend angelical
Dove-feathered raven
Wolvish-ravening lamb

A hamlet for a slothful vassal
Soothing ale for a parched sot
Hie to tell me what ye judgest as naught
I behold the shadow

Wherefore call me such names
Nay imp am I
Thou art my aghast hart
Grassing in the glade

Oh, that is a lie (e′er thou sayest aye)
Lief I am not (thief of a plot)
My words are but a twist (now go to thy tryst)
Fare well (go, leave, totter)
With joy I came, with rue I leave (until ye dwindlest)
Even the orb (a morsel, nay more)
Cannot help me melt the ice (for thy journey hither and thiter)

Cannot help me melt the ice
Cannot help me melt the ice