The river flows forever within,
A river of ink that does flood,
Here in the city without sin,
With Lucifer's shadow the rains blood

But a useless minstrel twas I,
So many moons ago,
Then I found the pen to which I did cry,
"O gracious lord, now my words I'll know!"

Sonnets and songs they came forth,
Jokes and poems came along too,
Created in the taverns much mirth,
Holy men damned my mind's loose screw

To this creative fate I am bound,
Success is mine, yet I have another hope,
I want to perform where god's words are found,
Beneath the watching eye of the pope

Ah but this item great gift did you bring,
A day flies by within verse,
Forever I record the beauty of spring,
And banish winter amidst my holy curse

Jealousy springs within massed men,
Of little talent and presence they occupy,
Constantly they try to steal my pen,
But the object, them it does defy

The years pass long and slow,
God's holiest servant withers and dies,
To the extravagant farewell did I go,
And listen to the tearful cries

The verse that day belonged not to me,
It would not fit for joy would it bring,
Yet amused was I when I did see,
The holy priest bounce and sing

Touched by my pen that bible was,
Of the pope I had a great friend,
The ink that turned that boring dross,
Into something fitting come the end

Little do these people know of the drink,
Especially a gin and tonic,
That the pope downed when he needed to think,
Or whenever he could for he was an alcoholic

Oh this blasphemous song,
On you I cannot dwell,
Nor sing for that would be wrong,
And then I'd be cast to hell

Oh my pen what a glorious burden you be,
Of wealth and mirth do I hold,
And I savour great popularity,
As these stories are forever retold

But after time the songs fade,
Their meaning scattered and away they fly,
My face becomes dark as nightshade,
When I see my pen is dry

Oh how mournful a time,
I share with thee ink,
I struggle to finish my rhyme,
Forced to constantly think.