Minstrel’s Son (Part I)

 

Peter was a minstrel’s son; a minstrel’s son was he,
Most handsome lad in all the land; yet kind and so carefree,
His father played for many courts with entertainments rare,
Or, in the town or inns, and pubs, and for the country fair.

 

Now for two years as hired here in castle by the sea,
As Peter played; he spied a maid, and she would spy on he,
Fifteen was she, and sixteen he; he’d play his lute; she’d smile,
He practiced juggling; drop the balls, she laughing all the while.

 

“My father is accomplished at this kind of craft, not me,”
“If you’re so good then try yourself, and I will laugh at thee!”
“I was not laughing at you boy; I see myself in you,”
“I fumble with my parents’ hopes; with all that I should do.”

 

“Let’s run away; we’ll take small treasure; go!”
“You are Lady, Gwendolyn, but I’m no Lord, you know!”
“But, like my father I can earn my honor and your hand,”
“I’ll join the service; make my mark! One day you’ll understand.”

 

Peter Lowell Paulson
July 10, 2013