Break the fair music that all creatures make,
and hollow out the world of its core,
humans roam the world and they take and they take,
not knowing what it is they’re looking for.
The fair music plays on with melodious grass,
and the air smells so sweet and fine.
I could not help but find a sweet lady lass,
and call her my heart, my valentine.
This, I give to you, a gift, a gift,
the harp you play, upon the melodious grass,
it plucks at my heart, these string that you lift,
and no other notes will let it pass.
Oh, lady love, that harp you play,
sings me to sleep upon a dewy morn.
Play this harp every bloody day,
and I’ll give you words music cannot form.