under a blanket of stars
He’ll sit and play a guitar
he thinks of his love
one he couldn’t bear to write of

she was an heiress to the throne
he was a peasant, seeds he’d sown
her father was cruel
he threw their love into a whirlpool

she loved him more than material things
but still he’d sit in the alehouses and play his strings
in hopes to afford to make her his
her father would never allow it that is

one day he came to her window
to run away with her, be her hero
as she gathered her things, at the door there was a knock
the room went silent, only the tick of a clock

the king rolled open the door
the notable yelled and swore
the hired hand, he wanted to butcher
his daughter had to marry richer

to the window the planter jumped
back to the bed the king then thumped
the next day his daughter was to wed
a prince from another land, by the rosebed

the maiden was distraught and decided to flee
she dreamed of her love, and longed to be free
from a stone wall she then descended
suddenly her rope slipped and undid

fast she fell, there was no hope for her
things were becoming a blur
they found her in the garden, a while later
the peasants pain had never been greater

now he sits, heart of sorrow
wondering if he’ll see tomorrow
for now he sits and plays a sad song
wondering where he went wrong