A Soldiers Repertoire

A soldier's repertoire is a book that collects songs often heard among the simple soldiers of Stormwind. An interesting collection item for any librarian.

Poor Child

By the road I saw a child,

Her face pale, no longer mild,

Staring about, lost in sorrow.

She lost her hope for tomorrow.

Once she had a home, nicely warm,

She abandoned that home so calm,

The way of life that held her near,

Was suffocating her heart so dear.

One day she had felt so lonesome,

She listened to a man so handsome,

She gave in to his sweet words,

Let her love grow beyond worlds

She didn't listen to reason,

Never would he commit treason

No warnings would she heed,

He would be all she'll ever need,

The word of her father daunted.

He would give her all she wanted,

All passion and love to be hers,

A life freed of all other slurs,

Feeling happy to be his wife,

So it would so be all her life.

She would love him to no end,

And followed him wherever he went.

They moved from town to town,

Ever more tired she came along,

Still she followed him through,

It proved her love to be true

She became neglected and ignored,

He didn't care and became bored,

But love was strong and deserved,

From him she wouldn't be deterred

But he grew angry and violent,

Neglecting her every moment,

Her efforts and words in vain,

He looked upon her with disdain,

Instead he would always heed,

The call of the bars and mead,

And women more ripe and wild,

His wife was to him only a child.

She lost her youth and belief,

For a man turned into a thief

The poor child was betrayed,

Her love and heart were unmade.

By the road I saw a child,

Her face pale, no longer mild,

Staring about, lost in sorrow.

She lost her hope for tomorrow.

Bird in a cage, variation 1

"Birds in cages always sing,

Yet never take wing;

How is it you can stand

From the skies being banned,

To never spread your wings

To see new things?

O Nightingale, with such ease and grace,

Do you sing from your barred place;

Far above humans fly

In the open sky,

Yet in your cage you remain,

So how is it you stay sane?

A free bird soars far up high,

No walls or bars in the sky,

He dips his beak in the sun’s rays,

And drinks the light of free days.

Yet no light or sky do your feathers meet,

So how is it you can tweet?

Even the birds of the pole,

Are free to go and stroll

The white meadows of the north

Where they can step forth,

And spread their plumes,

And breath free fumes.

But in your cage you stay,

Never seeing the open day,

You sing with gloomy trill,

Of things longed for still,

Yet none will hear your desperate song,

And free you to where you belong.

Farewell, Nightingale, goodbye,

And one day you shall fly;

Once your bars lay broken,

Your true song shall be spoken."

Bird in a cage, variation 2

"I saw you in your windowsill,

Singing with that gloomy trill;

O Nightingale, with such ease and grace,

Do you sing from your barred place!

Many rooms is your cage,

Downstairs, upstairs, I can gauge,

And even I with my outworn sword,

Could hear your troubled chords.

In your prison your master keeps you,

His form crippled and gnarled too;

A pious vulture of the robe he is,

Seeking to always keep you his!

I looked upon your plumes many a-colour,

And I saw your naïve eyes go a-flutter;

Let me view you then, o Nightingale,

Free as you were without your metal veil.

Farewell, O Nightingale, goodbye!

One day I shall set you to the sky,

Once your bars lay a-broken,

Your heart’s song shall be spoken."

To war we march! To War!

Drums, drums, on the earth,

Thousand boots, can be heard.

Soldiers of endless count,

To the battle we are bound.

To war, we march! To War!

Soldier stern, full of pride,

Brother in arms, at my side,

Maybe older, maybe younger,

Strong alone, together stronger,

To war, we march! To War!

Lance, armor of the best,

Reigning battles and hard quests,

See the paladins of the Light,

March with us in our plight,

To war, we march! To War!

See banners in the wind,

Golden lions of Stormwind,

Trumpets horn, swords unsheat,

Enemies prepare for your defeat!

To war, we march! To War!

If we meet our final end,

Think of loves that we defend,

Their voices sweet, scent of rose,

With us when your eyes will close,

To war, we march! To War!

Farewell, my love!

Men: <insert name> my darling dear!; Your eyes are pretty and clear,; Your lips are red as a berry; Will come with me and be merry?

Chorus:

Let us feast on love and wine,

Let tonight be yours and mine,

In the hay, neath moon and star,

For tomorrow I march to war.

Women: I love your voice and wild hair; But my heart tells me to beware,; Outside the ground is rumbling,; A storm and battle are coming.

Men: The night is warm, stars bright,; Come with me dear, just this night,; I'll play the lute, sing a song,; Make you smile all night long.

Chorus.

Women: But the ground grumbles in hunger,; It can not delay the battle longer.; Yet I'm tempted by your voice,; To ignore its terrible noise.

Men: Let us spend the night together,; And see this moment as forever.; Your eyes are bright, smile sweet,; Let's walk away and our lips meet.

Chorus.

Women: The trumpets flare, the bells ring,; Messengers shout, ministrels sing,; In this morning the time has come,; For young men to get their battle done.

Men: Forget your worries for my dear,; Battle may indeed be near,; By your side I shall return thus,; When the land is safe around us.

Chorus:

And we feasted on love and wine,

Had a night of yours and mine,

In the hay, neath moon and star,

But today I march to war.

Women: The Knights call you outside,; Along their side you'll stride,; Fight in the name of the King,; And protect the land of your kin.

Men: Farewell my love and think of me,; When I return, we will be free.; Should my name return in stone,; Be free and do not remain alone.

Chorus.

Women: Why has this life torn us apart,; Let war kill the man I needed hard,; After it promised a love so mild,; And left me to bear his child.