Fireside Bard

There are those who prefer to perform at Court
For the nobles at their feast.
But I prefer the fireside
Where there there's room for the great to the least.
Those high proper rules of etiquette
Sound pretty, but after a while,
I start to long for a rougher crowd
Whose manners are more my style.

A goblet of wine and a maiden fair
Are the height of courtesie.
But I'm satisfied with a tankard of ale
And a buxom wench on my knee.
You can always count on polite applause
From the ranks of the Gentility.
But a boisterous crowd that roars and cheers
Is the audience for me.

At evening I head for the tavern
Or the campfires just off the road,
Happy to sing for my supper
And lighten a travellers load.
To win a smile from some pretty eyes,
With my verses, a song or a jest,
Where ever the company's rowdy,
I'm always an honored guest.

Performing at Court is an honor
And a priviledge that I enjoy.
But the Crown wants their entertainments refined,
So my delicate arts I employ.
But when my performance is finished,
And the Quality's had enough song,
I know there is waiting a place by a fire
Where the party will last all night long.