There’ll be hoop-la in the village
when the troubadours arrive,
improvising love songs,
competing for the prize.
There’ll be clamour in the chapel,
when the minstrels play their tunes
and the beldams lift their petticoats
to dance the Clair de Lune.
Love and life and laughter,
the revels spin around,
till history turns another page,
then all fall down.