Man of Leeds
There was once a man of Leeds
A travelling drunkard, a wandering bard
Paying the world no heed
Ever following the path of night
He played softly on his guitar
Singing for mischief and spite
Yet always seeking his morning star
He stayed up, late as his body could,
Crying: “Oh if only God would,
Make for this wayward Adam
One beautiful Eve,
Never again would I grieve”
Hence on one midwinter’s eve
Terribly lost and so far from Leeds
In a place where the frost did heave
He happened upon a lady in the icy weeds
So wonderful she was to behold
On such a December’s night, so cold
“Just as I thought my end was nigh,
There shines a light amongst the barren trees
She must be God’s reply,
The answer to my pleas”
No longer weary from drink and travel
With prudence he began to unravel
All her ensnaring thorns, dusted in snow
Silently, so that she would not know
For she seemed to be a wild thing
A frightened little doe
But his heart she did wring
And so he crusaded in the name of love
Doing all that he could to catch that wild thing
Hoping to tame her like a dove
Now so enchanted with this ruminant
The gods ushered in an eternal spring
Never before so jubilant
And finally complete
He laid countless flowers before her feet
Thence when morning finally came
He proclaimed that she was the rising sun
And love was now her name
And so he followed, wherever that wild thing did run
Clothing her in cloth of his own kind
Singing sweet nothings just for fun:
“Oh my mesmerizing mistress,
You’re all that I ever hoped to find”
With a heart so contentedly thriftless
He became ever so deeply entwined
Oh this man of Leeds,
Crowned her his queen with such speed
Writing her pretty songs by the reams
For she was the queen of all his dreams...
And as he orbits her
He steals precious bits of her
Fancying himself an alchemist,
He painted her deep blues over in glistening gold
Eyes all glazed with bliss
He foretold of all the greatness their future would hold:
“Oh we shall bear a hundred children
Growing together, so wrinkled and old
We will have a thousand grandchildren
And never will my lady be cold
For I will always hold her close to me
And there in my bed my lady must stay
For that is how God meant it to be”
So he said, so he said, night and day
Placing her on the highest shelf
He gave her every last piece of himself
To create a mosaic so prosaic
So in art the two lovers were one:
The humble moon wedded with the holy sun
Gracing her picturesque lips
In an unending lunar eclipse
But in the heat of love’s summer
She grew ever glummer
And soon the lady fell ill
For even as he drew her closer still
He knew nothing of her ugly, wild thoughts
Binding her captive heart in Celtic knots
And every time he approached her
Ever closer the thorns of old encroached her
Until she felt little more than a carcass
Swallowed up by their darkness
For although he had her gilded and flowered
His love had left her devoured
And as he chipped away her veneer
He uncovered his every fear:
Once sparkling with his jewels,
She was now the brassy gold of fools
No longer basking in love’s flame
Ptolemy was now his name
Thus with love’s well depleted
The lady of earth retreated
Once again into her mind’s shadowy pools
Awaiting the cycle to be repeated
By another man of Leeds
Filled with love’s greed
A travelling drunkard, a wandering bard
Paying the world no heed
Ever following the path of night
He played softly on his guitar
Singing for mischief and spite
Yet always seeking his morning star
He stayed up, late as his body could,
Crying: “Oh if only God would,
Make for this wayward Adam
One beautiful Eve,
Never again would I grieve”
Hence on one midwinter’s eve
Terribly lost and so far from Leeds
In a place where the frost did heave
He happened upon a lady in the icy weeds
So wonderful she was to behold
On such a December’s night, so cold
“Just as I thought my end was nigh,
There shines a light amongst the barren trees
She must be God’s reply,
The answer to my pleas”
No longer weary from drink and travel
With prudence he began to unravel
All her ensnaring thorns, dusted in snow
Silently, so that she would not know
For she seemed to be a wild thing
A frightened little doe
But his heart she did wring
And so he crusaded in the name of love
Doing all that he could to catch that wild thing
Hoping to tame her like a dove
Now so enchanted with this ruminant
The gods ushered in an eternal spring
Never before so jubilant
And finally complete
He laid countless flowers before her feet
Thence when morning finally came
He proclaimed that she was the rising sun
And love was now her name
And so he followed, wherever that wild thing did run
Clothing her in cloth of his own kind
Singing sweet nothings just for fun:
“Oh my mesmerizing mistress,
You’re all that I ever hoped to find”
With a heart so contentedly thriftless
He became ever so deeply entwined
Oh this man of Leeds,
Crowned her his queen with such speed
Writing her pretty songs by the reams
For she was the queen of all his dreams...
And as he orbits her
He steals precious bits of her
Fancying himself an alchemist,
He painted her deep blues over in glistening gold
Eyes all glazed with bliss
He foretold of all the greatness their future would hold:
“Oh we shall bear a hundred children
Growing together, so wrinkled and old
We will have a thousand grandchildren
And never will my lady be cold
For I will always hold her close to me
And there in my bed my lady must stay
For that is how God meant it to be”
So he said, so he said, night and day
Placing her on the highest shelf
He gave her every last piece of himself
To create a mosaic so prosaic
So in art the two lovers were one:
The humble moon wedded with the holy sun
Gracing her picturesque lips
In an unending lunar eclipse
But in the heat of love’s summer
She grew ever glummer
And soon the lady fell ill
For even as he drew her closer still
He knew nothing of her ugly, wild thoughts
Binding her captive heart in Celtic knots
And every time he approached her
Ever closer the thorns of old encroached her
Until she felt little more than a carcass
Swallowed up by their darkness
For although he had her gilded and flowered
His love had left her devoured
And as he chipped away her veneer
He uncovered his every fear:
Once sparkling with his jewels,
She was now the brassy gold of fools
No longer basking in love’s flame
Ptolemy was now his name
Thus with love’s well depleted
The lady of earth retreated
Once again into her mind’s shadowy pools
Awaiting the cycle to be repeated
By another man of Leeds
Filled with love’s greed