Dancing Among The Flowers Fine

A Khajiit sings about his male lover. Loosely based on a song in ESO.

The Khajiit singing it is a Dreamwalker aka Moon-Singer aka Lunar Champion. They are Khajiiti mystics or heroes chosen by the Moons (Jone and Jode) to walk the Moonpaths, sometimes in dreams or trances.

In the mod, ‘Moonpath to Elsweyr’ and ESO, some Khajiit follow dream-journeys guided by the moons to reach metaphysical destinations. These paths are considered sacred and are used to commune with spirits, traverse realms, or receive visions. In my journals, Wulf calls it Ethereally Travelling, as he can do it.

In the song, the Khajiit sings ‘Following all the gemstone birds.’ It is a Khajiiti poeticism meaning:  I have chased every divine or spiritual sign. I have sought truths from Azurah and the moons. I have lived a life in pursuit of elusive, beautiful mysteries.

Although ‘gemstone birds’ is not used in any Elder Scrolls game, it would feasibly derive from the Khajiiti creation myth. That is wonderfully described in the in-game book, ‘Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi.’

The last two verses are in Ta’Agra and I think I got the AI music program to pronounce the language beautifully.

In English they say,

• S’rendarr watches over the gentle souls.
• Moon-Brother sings, wisdom in his path.
• Our claws are sheathed, yet the warrior sees.
• S’rendarr watches over the gentle souls.
•  
• Mercy flows like a river through all.
• Love binds the heart in sacred silence.
• The young one dreams, the elder walks.
• Our spirits walk home, blessed by S’rendarr.

In earlier Khajiiti religion (particularly during the Sixteen Kingdoms period), the Khajiiti openly worshipped many Divines alongside their own gods.

S’rendarr, their version of Stendarr, was known as the God of Mercy and Compassion and was revered among healers and peacekeepers. He was integrated into Khajiiti theology as a benevolent spirit, often seen as a balancing force to Azurah’s mysticism and the more chaotic elements of Khajiiti belief.

In 2E 311, Rid-Thar-ri’Datta (Riddle’Thar) received his epiphany and codified Khajiiti theology into a more rigid, monolithic system.

Nine spirits were elevated as “true gods” (e.g., Azurah, Khenarthi, Jone and Jode).

Foreign deities, including most of the Imperial Divines, were marginalised or reinterpreted.

S’rendarr’s worship diminished outside of Imperial-influenced territories (like Rimmen or Dune), and his temples were often closed or repurposed under Riddle’Thar orthodoxy.

The Khajiit who use Moonpaths in ‘Moonpath to Elsweyr’ often quote Riddle’Thar.

In the 4th Era, the Khajiit Pantheon omits S’rendarr as a significant deity. Instead, virtues like mercy are attributed to Azurah or Khenarthi within their spiritual framework.

Lyrics:

• Dancing among the flowers fine
• Singing a song that calls to him
• Moonlight serenade at my whim
• Dancing among the flowers fine
•  
• Vistas unfold before me now
• Sharing their secrets joyfully
• They’re bright in hue yet darkly dire
• They warm me with softly glowing fire…
•  
• Moving within the worlds between
• Following all the gemstone birds
• Yearning to hear his whispered words
• Moving within the worlds between
•  
• Dreams are the threads that bind my soul
• Woven with love, regret, and song
• The moons may part, but still I know
• This path is where my heart belongs
•  
• S’rendarr siir var musani sheen
• Jone-Dar padara, ja’kha var daan
• Zahleh-si grahji, no dro si ron
• S’rendarr siir var musani sheen
•  
• Kraji doha’ra vaba jinah
• Virra meht ta’ahnji mora
• J’zirr si’na, ro’vir m’ai
• Dra’sohn ne-raht, zayini s’rendarr

To Me, You Are The Light

Wulf and Rigmor sing a duet I wrote!

Lyrics:

• Kintyra is asleep, and the palace grows quiet.
• Come, my beloved, let us speak.
•  
• When the weight of the world makes me weary 
• And the praise they give feels hollow and heavy 
• There’s one place I long to rest 
• In your arms, where I find peace and purpose
•  
• They see a warrior, hardened and true 
• But I see your soul, scarred yet whole 
• No blade nor god shall ever decree 
• That fate will steal you away from me
•  
• To me, you are the light 
• A beacon in the darkest night 
• No tyrant’s will or prophecy 
• Will ever silence you and me
•  
• You hold me strong when the battle is near 
• Your voice cuts through the worry and fear 
• Where others observe my crown and sword 
• You see the man, and my soul is restored
•  
• You never ask for song or praise 
• Just peace, and an end to these darkest days 
• You fight for those in dire need 
• And it is your soul that suffers and bleeds
•  
• To me, you are the light 
• A beacon in the darkest night 
• No tyrant’s will or prophecy 
• Will ever silence you and me
•  
• Let the bards sing of thrones and war 
• Of battles that fade, and kingdoms no more 
• But none know the truth as I do: 
• The best of me… is loving you
•  
• I have waited through storms, prayed through fire 
• Asked The Divines to guide you from the mire 
• You have wandered far and wide 
• But your eternal love is deep inside 
• And that is enough for me
•  
• To me, you are the light 
• A beacon in the darkest night 
• No darkened age, no prophecy 
• Will ever dim what you are to me 
• To me… you were always the light

Why I Go To War

Wulf explains to Kintyra why he must leave her and fight.

Lyrics:

• Please, Kintyra, do not cry. 
• You ask why I must go to war. 
• You know the answer in your heart 
• But I’ll explain it once more.
•  
• Brave soldiers prepare to guard The Empire. 
• Though they may succeed alone, 
• Fewer will fall, and sooner they’ll return 
• With The Dragonborn beside them, away from throne.
•  
• I’ve pledged my life to all of Nirn. 
• No crown can supplant that flame within. 
• Many banners answer the call, 
• And The Emperor must lead them all.
•  
• I’m more than soldier, sweet one dear. 
• I am Ysmir, storm and seer. 
• I wear the Stormcrown, speak The Voice… 
• And guard all mortals by solemn choice.
•  
• Beyond the reach of Cyrodiil’s breath, 
• Shadows stir and whisper death. 
• The Tsaesci come with faith and fire 
• But their truth will not be our pyre.
•  
• They covet neither gold nor land, 
• But wish to mold with unseen hands. 
• Their religion seeks to overwrite 
• The Divines that gifted our sacred rights.
•  
• But you, my light must not despair. 
• Your father rides with gods who care. 
• Though distant lands may test my reign, 
• I’ll wield our strength and return again.
•  
• You traced my brow with shaking hand, 
• Begged me stay and break all plans. 
• But duty burns within my soul 
• I must keep our rights from being stole.
•  
• If I don’t go they’ll see us weak, 
• And strike with greater fervour, ever bleak. 
• Yes, others fight, but I must stand, 
• To hold back chaos with my hand.
• For if I stay more blood shall spill. 
• More children will cry, their hopes stilled.
•  
• I give to you this pendant bright. 
• A gift of love of star and light. 
• When you miss me call my name 
• My soul will hear you, and my worries tamed.
•  
• But you, my light must not despair. 
• Your father rides with gods who care. 
• Though distant lands may test my reign, 
• I’ll wield our strength and return again.
•  
• And should I fall while doing right, 
• Let your name be my final light. 
• Empires crumble and thrones will rust 
• But fathers and daughters, in love must trust.
•  
• You asked why your father must don sword and steel 
• I owed you this truth, solemn and real.

Where Have I Been?

Kintyra asks Wulf if he has been everywhere. The title is a cheeky reference to Rigmor’s dummy spit when Wulf arrives in Bruma. I have tried to group the locations by province.

Lyrics:

• What is that Kintyra? 
• Have I really been everywhere? 
• No, not everywhere, but I have roamed far and wide. 
• Not for riches, but for those I swore to protect. 
• For the people of Nirn have I travelled. 
• Let me see if I can remember some of the more interesting places.
•  
• Umbriel’s skies turned midnight black, 
• I sailed where Esroniet’s tides pull back. 
• Roscrea’s cliffs where the whale-folk cry, 
• And Cathnoquey dreams ‘neath a moonlit sky. 
• I walked Pandar Vale through the serpent’s mist, 
• Where maps fade out… and sailors drift.
•  
• I climbed Nchuand-Zel where the echoes call, 
• And heard Raldbthar hum through brass-lined halls. 
• I stood in Mzark beneath its eye, 
• Watched Arkngthamz spark in the darkening sky. 
• Aetherium danced where the Lost ones fled… 
• While Blackreach sighed its song of dread.
•  
• I’ve seen Vivec’s gold rise to meet the sun, 
• And Redoran halls carved one by one. 
• Where Telvanni towers defy the ground, 
• And Molag Mar makes a thunderous sound. 
• Through Ghostgate’s cracks and prayerful haze, 
• I braved ash storms from Red Year’s blaze.
•  
• At Ysgramore’s tomb on the northern bay, 
• I touched Saarthal’s stones worn soft and gray. 
• Skuldafn’s peaks where dragons roam, 
• And Labyrinthian’s icy, deathless dome. 
• High Hrothgar’s winds have carved my name, 
• And The Voice still stirs that sacred flame.
•  
• I’ve crossed the foam to Direnni’s rise, 
• And climbed Orsinium toward stormy skies. 
• I walked Daggerfall’s vaults and Evermore’s streets, 
• Where whispers of dukes and danger meet. 
• In Reachfolk caves, by smoldering pitch, 
• I heard stone-born songs of curse and witch.
•  
• In Seht’s great vaults, where time’s not right, 
• I’ve seen day turn dream and dream to night. 
• The Heart still sleeps beneath mountain flame, 
• Where gods once bled… and none dare name. 
• I followed stars where Magnus fled, 
• And watched where anchors once brought dread.
•  
• I stood where Adamant greets the dawn, 
• And where White-Gold rings out fate long gone. 
• Crystal-Like-Law, now sunk and still, 
• A gleam that glows beyond the hill. 
• Snow-Throat watches o’er Nordic land… 
• And Zero waits where none may stand.
•  
• So yes, my darling Kintyra, I have journeyed far and wide. 
• I mentioned a few, but the list is long. 
• I do this not for glory, nor for praise 
• But to hold the darkness at bay. 
• I did not mention the many places in Oblivion, for they do not hold fond memories. 
• But wherever I go, your love and that of your mother walks with me. 
• And I am never alone.

Melodies of Life

Based (loosely) on a computer game composition.

Lyrics:

• Alone I’ve wandered, searching through the dark,
• For traces of a love still burning in my heart.
• I try to shape the silence into song,
• A melody of love that lingers on.
•  
• The paths we walked, the laughter and the tears,
• A moment’s warmth that fades across the years.
• But even now, I hear you call my name.
• A whisper from the past, a steady flame.
•  
• In my dearest memories, I feel you reaching out to me.
• Though time moves on and shadows fall,
• Your voice still answers when I call.
•  
• So far away, a bird begins to fly,
• Across the sky where memories lie.
• I placed my dreams upon its wings
• And watched it fade, unsure what it brings.
•  
• In every dawn, I feel your soul draw near,
• A light that stays when skies aren’t clear.
• Though fate may part the ones it finds,
• Our melody softly shines.
•  
• Do you remember loving me?
• A fleeting glance, a memory…
• Or was it just the hand of fate
• That led us close, then sealed the gate…
• But melodies of life remain,
• Unbroken in the falling rain.
•  
• If I must leave you behind,
• Your voice will live inside my mind.
• And I will sing your song again
• A bond that time cannot end.
•  
• Even if we drift apart…
• I will keep you in my heart…
• Melodies of life, they stay,
• Forever echoing night and day.
•  
• Melodies of life remain, that is true,
•  
• Forever in my heart, melodies of you.

Melodies of Life Duet

A duet version of Melodies of Life. DUH!

The Silkie of Sule Skerry

A traditional Scottish folk song. I have changed some lyrics to improve the flow and rewritten the last verse for a happier ending.

Glossary:

• nourris: a wet-nurse or foster mother
• ba lilly wean: sweet little child
• bairn:child
• bedfit: foot of the bed
• grumly: grim or gloomy
• silkie: a mythical seal-man from Scottish folklore
• Sule Skerry: a remote island off northern Scotland
• tain: taken
• gie: give
• nourris-fee: payment for nursing the child
• stain: stone
• faim: sea foam

In the original song, the Silkie and child are shot by the wet nurse’s husband. In Scottish folklore, Silkie are often victimised and killed. Hence the reference to a gun I placed in my closing verse.

Lyrics:

• An earthly nourris sits and sings,
• And aye she sings ba lilly wean,
• Sayin’, little ken I my bairn’s father,
• Far less the land that he steps in.
•  
• Then he arose at her bedfit,
• And a grumly guest I’m sure was he,
• Saying here am I thy bairn’s father,
• Although I be not comely.
•  
• I am a man upon the land,
• And I’m a silkie upon the sea,
• And when I’m far and far from land,
• My home it is in Sule Skerry.
•  
• Now he has tain a purse of gold,
• And he has put it upon her knee,
• Saying gie tae me my little young son,
• And take thee up thy nourris-fee.
•  
• And it shall come to pass on a summer’s day,
• When the sun shines brightly on every stain,
• I’ll come and fetch my little young son,
• And teach him how to swim the faim.
•  
• And thou shalt find no grief nor gun,
• But gentle waves and setting sun,
• For I will raise my little bairn,
• Where sea birds cry and tides run.

Riding in the T.T. Races

The Lancashire Lad, George Formby, used to perform this song quite regularly. My father used to have a scratchy 78 RPM record of it, and it brings back fond memories. A charabanc is a type of early caravan.

Lyrics:

• If there’s one thing that I like, it’s riding around on a motor-bike
• I’m a speed king, when I once begin
• I once won first prize two and six, I know all the dirt track dirty tricks
• I’m a marvel when I’m out to win
• In a fifty mile race I am the best, I ride five miles and skid the rest
•  
• So come along and see me riding in the T.T. races
• Easier than hop scotch, beating all the top notch aces
• I’ve been riding all my life, I started quite small
• I’ve ridden fairy cycles, aye, and scooters and all
• Hear the people cheer me when they see me steering backwards
• Down the hill I go at break-neck speed
• See me coming down the street with the winning post on the pillion seat
• Oh! Come along and see me riding in the T.T. races
•  
• Come along and see me riding in the T.T. races
• Easier than hop scotch, beating all the top notch aces
• Once my bike was hard to ride, but I didn’t mind
• Until I found they’d hitched a charabanc on behind
• Everybody’s scaring, I am such a daring rider
• My inside rattles when I go the pace
• My ribs begin to shake about, there’s all my spare parts sticking out
•  
• So come along and see me riding in the T.T. races
• Easier than hop scotch, beating all the top notch aces
• I’ve been riding all my life, I started quite small
• I’ve ridden fairy cycles, aye, and scooters and all
• Hear the people cheer me when they see me steering backwards
• Down the hill I go at break-neck speed
• See me coming down the street with the winning post on the pillion seat
• Oh! Come along and see me riding in the T.T. races

The Inn With No Mead

A very popular Australian song is The Pub With No Beer. A nightmare for any Aussie! I have moved the location to Skyrim, and the inn has no mead!

Lyrics:

• Oh, it’s lonesome away from those you hold dear, 
• When the wolves stalk the treeline and twilight draws near, 
• But naught chills the soul, not the snow nor foul deed, 
• Like the silence within an inn with no mead.
•  
• Now the inn keep is frowning, his ledger runs lean, 
• And the bard strikes no chord, nor merriment seen, 
• The pot-boy’s gone missing, the cook to gods pleads 
• ‘Tis a cursed sort of dwelling, an inn with no mead!
•  
• A sellsword rides in with dust on his brow, 
• He leans on the bar with a jingle and bow, 
• But his coin cannot conjure, nor pleading succeed, 
• When the inn keep whispers, “We have no mead.”
•  
• Then a peddler appears, walked from Reach to the Pale, 
• His feet black with road-muck, his breath thin and frail, 
• He slumps by the fire, announces his need 
• Then gasps in despair, “Is there truly no mead?”
•  
• There’s a hound on the step, ears flat to the grain, 
• His master drinks water, his leash bears no chain, 
• The dog slinks away, as if sensing dark deeds 
• For he dare not linger where there’s no mead.
•  
• Old Bjorn the blacksmith, who can drink like ten, 
• Comes home to his wife, shocked he’s not drunk again, 
• She peers at his face, says, “You’re sober, indeed?” 
• He sighs through the stillness: “The inn’s out of mead.”
•  
• Oh, it’s lonesome away from those you hold dear, 
• When the wolves stalk the treeline and twilight draws near, 
• But naught chills the soul, not the snow nor foul deed, 
• Like the silence within an inn with no mead.
•  
• The Redguard drinks cider, the Breton prefers wine, 
• The Khajiit hums softly, pretending it’s fine, 
• But the Nord at the corner, not caring to plead, 
• Just stares at the wall… and dreams about mead.
•  
• So bring forth the flagon, or bury us deep, 
• For an inn without mead is no place to sleep. 
• And the wolves at the window may come if they please 
• ‘Tis more pleasant out there… than an inn with no mead.

The Wild Colonial Boy

Many versions of this Australian folk song exist. This is my version with altered lyrics to suit the rhythm I wanted. 

Lyrics:

• There was a wild colonial boy,
• Jack Duggan was his name
• He was born and raised in Victoria,
• in a place called Castle Maine
• He was his father’s only son,
• his mother’s pride and joy
• And dearly did his parents love
• the wild colonial boy
•  
• At the early age of sixteen years,
• he left family and home
• And in Australia’s open spaces,
• he was inclined to roam
• He helped the poor, he robbed the rich,
• Their crops he would destroy
• A terror to Australia was
• the wild colonial boy
•  
• For two long years this daring youth
• ran on his wild career
• With a heart that knew no danger
• and a soul that felt no fear
• He held the Beechwood Coach up
• and he robbed Judge McEvoy
• Who, trembling, gave his gold up
• to the wild colonial boy
•  
• He bade the Judge “Good Morning”
• and he told him to beware
• “For I never robbed an honest judge
• who acted on the square
• Yet you would rob a mother
• of her only pride and joy
• And breed a race of outlaws like
• the wild colonial boy”
•  
• One morning on the prairie,
• While Jack Duggan rode along
• While listening to the many birds,
• a-singing out their songs
• Out jumped three troopers fierce and grim
• Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
• Who were detailed to capture him,
• the wild colonial boy
•  
• “Surrender now, Jack Duggan,
• you can see we’re three to one
• Surrender in our Queen’s name,
• your plundering is done”
• Jack drew two pistols from his belt,
• and glared upon Fitzroy
• “I’ll fight, but not surrender,”
• cried the wild colonial boy
•  
• He fired a shot at Kelly,
• and he brought him to the ground
• He fired a shot at Davis too,
• who fell dead at the sound
• But a bullet pierced his brave young heart,
• from the pistol of Fitzroy
• And that was how they captured him,
• the wild colonial boy

Clever Khajiiti Claws – SKA Version

This started off as a song in ESO but is so changed it bears little resemblance to the original. I have used ‘Pidgeon Ta’agra’ for some parts.

This is the SKA version. SKA is good for lyrics that do not rhyme. Changes of tempo are part of the genre.

Ta’agra Phrase Meaning:

• Llembro siir’ka: “A lock is a whisper”
• Darzi jo’zhan: “Clever claws” (darzi = claw, jo’zhan = wit/cunning)
• Zishar do purse: “Guard your purse”
• Bandaari waresh: “The Bandaari travel/caravan passes”
• Ha vakka sail: “Like a wind sails” – a poetic phrasing for passing
• Moons tell tale: Khajiiti idiom for fate or moral judgment
• Ja’kha wind in hair: “A tale on the wind”  poetic idiom for a lesson carried by loss

Lyrics:

• A lock is a whisper to clever claws,
• No riddle too twisted, no bargain too flawed.
• We dance with the moons and we steal with a grin,
• Your trap has not sprung, but we’ve already been!
•  
• Zishar do purse, zishar do tail,
• Bandaari waresh, ha vakka sail.
• Siir na taken, do sazi not owed
• Moons tell tale where riches flowed.
•  
• A coin that is kept teaches little, they say,
• But the one that is lost sings songs on its way.
• We sell you a tale with each bit we trade,
• And vanish by dawn in a coloured cascade.
•  
• Zishar do purse, zishar do tail,
• Bandaari waresh, ha vakka sail.
• Siir na heavy, nor chained to floor
• Wisdom waits where fools store more.
•  
• Llembro siir’ka, darzi jo’zhan,
• Nis khaji no sahra, jone-jode zan.
• Rajhin-dar walk, na ja’kha smile,
• Trap-na seen, ha siir var tile.
•  
• So guard your purse and guard your pride,
• The Bandaari caravan’s passing by.
• We take what’s light, not what is chained
• The moons delight when fools complain.
•  
• Is it stealing if you smile when it’s done?
• Is it lying if both sides had fun?
• Is it wrong if the moons never frown?
• Or is your coin simply better off… gone?
•  
• Or maybe the chest you locked so tight
• Is just a box that feared the light…
• Zishar do purse, zishar do tail,
• Bandaari waresh, ha vakka sail.
• Lost thing teach, more than store
• Locked chest hides moon-songs no more!
•  
• Heh… clever claws leave only questions.
• But your smile? That we keep.

Clever Khajiit Claws – Dub Version

Dub Step version with a reggae influence.

Good Morning, My Dear Old Friend

An old English folk song I have converted to a waltz. This required the changing of lyrics to suit the ¾ rhythm.

Lyrics:

• Oh, good morning to you, my friend
• The sun climbs high where green hills bend
• The dew still shines on emerald grass
• Let’s sing out loud, let no joy pass
•  
• Sing high, sing low, we’ll waltz today
• Where fiddles play and pipes give way
• A happy heart’s the best to lend
• Good morning, good morning, my dear old friend
•  
• The tavern doors will open soon
• And fill with song by afternoon
• But now the fields are dressed in dew
• Let’s walk a while, just me and you
•  
• Sing high, sing low, we’ll waltz to-day
• Where fiddles play and pipes give way
• A happy heart’s the best to lend
• Good morning, good morning, my dear old friend
•  
• There’s joy in laughter, song and cheer
• With every step, let’s keep it near
• Through moss-lined paths and stone-built halls
• Our joy will ring where sparrow calls
•  
• Oh, the kettle sings, the tea is hot
• A stew is warm in the old cast pot
• With friends and time so kindly spent
• Each dawn we share feels heav’n-sent
•  
• Sing high, sing low, we’ll waltz to-day
• Where fiddles play and pipes give way
• A happy heart’s the best to lend
• Good morning, good morning, my dear old friend

The Piper O’ the Hayfield Glen

This is my conversion of the late 18th century English folk song, ‘The Pleasant Month of May’ into a Scottish Highland equivalent.

Scottish Phrases:

• “muckle sun did kiss the brae…” – The big sun warms the hillside; they start setting up.
• “Jean came by…” – A local lass, perhaps well-known and admired, brings a domestic charm.
• “grass fell like corn tae flame…” – The scything is efficient, poeticised as beautiful and powerful.
• “every lad… would court her…” – Jean is clearly the object of affection among the workers.
• “gloamin’…” – As dusk sets over a nearby mountain (“Ben”), something changes.
• “the piper stood…” – A traditional Highland piper arrives, dramatically.
• “blew a note sae grand…” – The start of his playing is so powerful it arrests everyone’s attention, including children (bairns). A moment of awe.
• “danced and reeled…” – A joyful communal ceilidh follows, full of dancing and closeness.

Lyrics:

• It cam aboot in early May, when blossom touched the tree, 
• Doon in the hayfield glen sae wide, sae bonnie tae the e’e. 
• The burn ran fast, the wind was warm, and lads came three by three, 
• Wi’ scythe in hand and ale in pack, tae mow and joke and spree.
•  
• The muckle sun did kiss the brae as we laid out the lines, 
• An’ Jean came by wi’ apron tied, her hair in linen twines. 
• The grass it fell like corn tae flame, the work was swift and good, 
• And e’ry lad wi’ sweaty brow would court her if he could.
•  
• As gloamin’ dipped o’er Ben’s dark edge, a shadow crossed the lea, 
• The piper stood, wi’ plaid in hand, a silhouette tae see. 
• He raised the drones, he filled the bag, and blew a note sae grand, 
• It made the bairns tae stop their games, and every soul tae stand.
•  
• We danced and reeled upon the green till stars lit up the sky, 
• Wi’ lass and lad, wi’ foot and hand, nae care for time gone by. 
• An’ when the dawn cam rollin’ in o’er loch and heather deep, 
• We turned for hame, wi’ hearts sae light, an’ stumbled off tae sleep.

Alison Gross – Witch Of The North

My rearrangement and rewording of the classic British folk song, Alison Gross. If you detect a Jethro Tull influence then I have done what I set out to do!

Lyrics:

• She dwells in stone where sunshine dies,
• In a tower’s lifeless, northern shade.
• She summoned me with luring lies
• A voice both cracked and honey-laid.
•  
• She touched my hair with hands like stone,
• Her breath was thick with bitter lies.
• “Take what I give, and be my own
• I’ll make you rich beneath these skies.”
•  
• Alison Gross, mistress of spite,
• Eyes like coal, devoid of light.
• No heart, no flame behind her glare,
• Just hunger cloaked in golden snare.
•  
• She offered silk, she offered wine,
• With pearls that caught the candle’s gleam.
• She said, “This love could still be thine
• More real than anything you dream.”
•  
• But I turned from her sweet deceit
• No jewels could disguise the evil I see
• “I’d sooner sleep beneath the sleet
• Than trade my soul for what you be”
•  
• Alison Gross, mistress of spite,
• Eyes like coal, devoid of light.
• No heart, no flame behind her glare,
• Just hunger cloaked in golden snare.
•  
• She turned and hissed through broken teeth
• Blew thrice into her horn of bone
• Cursed the stars and sky beneath
• And called my name in a tongue unknown
•  
• The earth grew still, the treetops bowed.
• She raised her staff of ash and ice.
• She carved her wrath in glowing shroud
• That stole my strength and crushed my will…twice.
•  
• Alison Gross, bringer of doom,
• No fire, no light within that gloom.
• She weaves her curse in silence deep
• And sings her love to those who sleep.
•  
• Alison Gross, she took my form
• Left me crawling in the storm.
• No name, no past, no man to be
• Just shadow cast eternally.

Solitude Waltz

There are many versions of Tennessee Waltz that I enjoy. I thought I would try and make a Skyrim version!

Lyrics:

• I was dancing with my darling to the Solitude Waltz,
• Lanterns whispered dreams on the stone.
• Then I smiled to an old friend, long parted by fate
• And brought her to the love I’d known.
•  
• I remember the night and the Solitude Waltz,
• Songs drifted soft through the hall.
• Yet I lost my true love to its sorrowful tune
• That gentle and haunting old Solitude Waltz.
•  
• He bowed low and they laughed as they drifted away,
• To the rhythm that once filled my heart.
• Left alone in the shadows where we danced long ago,
• I watched my whole world fall apart.
•  
• I remember the night and the Solitude Waltz,
• Cold northern breeze filled the hall.
• Yet I lost my true love to its sorrowful tune
• That gentle and haunting old Solitude Waltz.
•  
• “She meant no harm, yet claimed what was dear,
• And the waltz echoed empty from there…”
•  
• Moonlight still falls on the old marble floor,
• Yet music breathes here no more…
•  
• I remember the night and the Solitude Waltz,
• Cold northern breeze filled the hall.
• Yet I lost my true love to its sorrowful tune
• That gentle and haunting old Solitude Waltz.

She Moved Through The Fair

My re-imagining of the classic English folk song. I added an extra verse and edited a few others. I also put in a few ‘ahh ahhs’ for dramatic effect. The first time I played Rigmor of Bruma and we visited the Riften Market, this song came to mind.

Lyrics:

• My young love said to me, “My mother won’t mind,
• And my father won’t slight you for your lack of kind,”
• And she stepped away from me and this she did say,
• “It will not be long, love, till our wedding day.” 
•  
• She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair,
• And fondly I watched her move here and move there,
• And then she turned homeward with one star awake,
• Like the swan in the evening moves over the lake.
•  
• The people are saying, the two never wed,
• But one had a sorrow that never was said,
• And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear,
• And that was the last that I saw of my dear.
•  
• (Ahh ahh ahh…) 
• (Ahh ahh ahh…) 
•  
• A horse broke its tether and bolted in fright,
• She turned at the cry but was blinded by night.
• The horse struck, and she was gone in a breath,
• No one had a chance to keep her from death.
•  
• Last night she came to me, my dead love came in,
• So softly she came that her feet made no din,
• She laid her hand on me and this she did say,
• “It will not be long, love, ’til our wedding day.” 
•  
• (Ahh ahh ahh…) 
• ‘Til our wedding day… 
• (Ahh ahh ahh…) 
• …our wedding day

You Shall Be My Darling

Some good old-fashioned Country & Western! This started out as a traditional English folk song. You can still recognise bits of it here and there.

• I was drivin’ the sheep up the ridge,
• Where the wild clover grows real high,
• Where the creek hums a lullaby
• That’s where I met my darlin’.
•  
• I wandered down by the sleepy bend, 
• Where willows brushed the water’s edge; 
• A cowboy tipped his hat my way, 
• And asked if I’d be his darlin’.
•  
• Would you walk with me by the stream,
• Where the sweetgum trees lean low and wide,
• Where the moon paints silver on the pines,
• And time don’t mean a damn thing?
•  
• If your words are true, not just sweet wind, 
• I’ll walk beside you through meadow and mist; 
• But I’ve heard sweet talk from ramblin’ men 
• So prove your heart exists.”
•  
• I’ll buy you ribbons and a golden band, 
• And boots that fit just right, 
• A cabin porch with a creaky swing, 
• To watch the stars each night.
•  
• And if your arms stay kind and hold me close, 
• If your word don’t turn to dust, 
• Then I’ll be yours through storm and sun, 
• In love, in faith, in trust.”
•  
• As long as rivers find the sea,
• As long as stars hang in the sky,
• Till the reaper calls my name one night,
• You shall be my darlin’.

ALDUIN!

A song about Wulf, The Dragonborn, and how he defeated Alduin, The World-Eater.

Lyrics:

• Steel in hand, he fought for all
• Blessed by Akatosh with a dragon’s soul
• When Alduin arrived with fire and roar
• Wulf answered with courage and ancient lore
•  
• Wulf is Ysmir
• He wears the Stormcrown
• He hunted Alduin
• And brought him down!
•  
• Dragons have no fear, and scorn the grave
• But Wulf was blessed by The Nine, his Thu’um unmatched
• With Divine Knights close behind
• He ended the plan Alduin designed
•  
• Wulf is Ysmir
• He wears the Stormcrown
• He hunted Alduin
• And brought him down!
•  
• Wulf could not rest, nor turn aside
• While Alduin fed on souls day and night
• From heroes past, he learned Dragonrend
• And used it to make tyranny end
•  
• In Sovngarde, Alduin hid
• To there did Wulf and comrades go
• Neither glory nor reward did they seek
• They risked all to end the foe
•  
• Wulf is Ysmir
• He wears the Storm-crown
• He hunted Alduin
• And brought him down!
•  
• Steel in hand, he fought for all
• Blessed by Akatosh with a dragon’s soul
• When Alduin arrived with fire and roar
• Wulf answered with courage and ancient lore
•  
• Wulf is Ysmir
• He wears the Stormcrown
• He hunted Alduin
• And brought him down!

A Mazken Came To Solitude

A Mazken arrives at The Winking Skeever and has a fiddle duel with The Dragonborn. Mazken, aka Dark Seducers, are the guardians of a part of The Sliver Isles in Oblivion where those with dementia dwell. The Dragonborn instills a sense of empathy for those suffering dementia that the Mazken lacked. She leaves with a better understanding of those she guards.

Lyrics:

• A Mazken came to Solitude
• Her eyes like tempered steel
• Sheogorath sent her with a grin
• “To test what mortals feel.”
•  
• She entered The Winking Skeever
• A hush fell on the room
• Not fear, nor hate… but something still
• A breath before the tune
•  
• They say your strings can stir the soul.
• Let’s see if they do that to mine.
•  
• The mind may wander, but the soul remembers. Play.
•  
• They hum to walls, they name the dust
• They bow to broken light
• Their thoughts dissolve like melting frost
• No wrong, no joy, no right
•  
• And yet they smile when no one sees
• And sing beneath their breath
• There’s grace within their silent steps
• And hope that hides from death
•  
• I watch them trace invisible threads
• And dance where no roads go
• They speak in tongues no soul does know
• And follow thoughts that flow
•  
• But don’t you see their art, their fire?
• Their ways are not our own
• Yet still they teach, and laugh, and yearn
• Thoughts wandering, but not alone
•  
• Their days are woven dark and thin
• Truths slip through their hands
• They weep at songs no one has sung
• And stare at nothing with faces bland
•  
• And still within that dusk they live
• Not lost, but deeply changed
• What you call broken…some call free
• What you call strange…unchained
•  
• They paint in ash, they scrawl on walls
• With fingers stained and worn
• I called it madness once…but now
• I see a soul reborn
•  
• You speak of minds that drift like mist
• But roots grow even there
• A kindness hums beneath the blur
• A quiet song they share
•  
• They drift not lost, but deeper in
• A world I could not trace
• And though they walk through shadowed doors
• There’s dignity and grace
•  
• So let them sing, though none recall
• Their tune still echoes in us all
•  
• No judgment passed, no banner raised
• Just silence, long and wide
• Two voices met in chord and tone
• And saw the other side
•  
• The fire breathed, the world moved on
• No prize, no scorn, no plea
• But something old and soft endured
• A touch of empathy

Fiddle On My Back

A song I wrote about a bard travelling from Riften to Solitude to reunite with his sweetheart.

Lyrics:

• Mmm hmm hmm 
• Mmm hmm mmm 
•  
• I rode out from Riften Hold, 
• My fiddle slung across my back. 
• The snow lay deep, the sun burned cold, 
• I followed a frozen track. 
• Each mile I sang her name aloud, 
• Beneath the pale blue sky 
• Fair Sylvana waits for me, 
• Where Solitude climbs high.
•  
• (Oh, Sylvana) don’t you cry for me, 
• (From Riften’s gate) I ride with melody. 
• Through storm and snow, through forest lea, 
• I ride with fiddle on my back.
•  
• I passed The Throat Of The World, 
• Its summit lost in haze. 
• A dragon roared and spiraled down 
• I raised my voice and sang. 
• Some trolls gave chase and Forsworn screamed, 
• But none could capture me. 
• My strings intact, my path was clear 
• Sylvana, wait for me!
•  
• (Oh, Sylvana) don’t you cry for me, 
• (From Riften’s gate) I ride with melody. 
• Through storm and snow, through forest lea, 
• I ride with fiddle on my back.
•  
• The days grew long, the passes steep, 
• My horse near spent with load. 
• We slipped through ice on crumbling paths, 
• And forded rivers cold. 
• The winds would howl from dawn to dusk, 
• Each breath a biting sting 
• Yet still I would stop and draw my bow 
• Then make the mountains sing.
•  
• At last the peaks gave way to stone 
• Solitude, gleaming bright. 
• She met me on the marble steps, 
• And held me through the night. 
•  
• (Oh, Sylvana) now you sing with me, 
• (From Riften’s gate) I rode with melody. 
• No road too long, no sky too black 
• I came with fiddle on my back.
•  
• Mmm hmm hmm
•  
• I came with fiddle on my back…

The Wizard of Winterhold

Wulf has a conversation with an ancient mage in The Frozen Hearth.

Lyrics:

• He had been a Court Wizard to many kings 
• Met him at an inn while the frostwind sings 
• He spoke in riddles, sipping mead from brass 
• Tales of freeing souls, and futures that pass 
•  
• His cloak was sewn with golden thread 
• Eyes like runes that fill men with dread 
• He leaned in close, voice like flame 
• Whispered of gods too wild to name 
•  
• He spoke of lands beyond the veil 
• Where dragons rise and empires fail 
• Of battles sung through ageless lore 
• Where mortals dream to be much more 
•  
• Why don’t we listen to 
• The voice inside the soul? 
• For deep within our blood, 
• Lies power to make us whole 
•  
• Let joy be found in song 
• Let love and kinship reign 
• A world reborn in hope, 
• Not bound by fear or pain   
•  
• So spoke the wizard, so wise and deep 
• I carved those words in memory’s keep 
• In Winterhold where mages lie 
• And snow stacks deep beneath the sky 
•  
• I rode alone beneath the stars 
• Their whispers lit the dark 
• He knew who I was 
• Dovahkiin… 
• (Ah-ah-ah) 
• Dovahkiin…

The Lambton Worm – Waltz

I have taken the song written in 1867 by C. M. Leumane and turned it into a waltz. I rewrote many lines, removed some sections and the Northumbrian dialect and based it in Cyrodiil.

Lyrics:

• One Sundas morning Lambton went
• To fish in the Niben River;
• He caught a fish upon his hook
• It was strange and quivered.
• But what kind of fish it was,
• Young Lambton couldn’t say
• He didn’t want to take it home,
• So he threw it away.
•  
• The Lambton Worm, it prowls at night,
• Beneath the moons’ pale, silver light.
• It slinks around with silent dread,
• And dreams of milk and sheep well-fed.
•  
• Now Lambton felt the urge to go
• And fight in distant lands.
• He joined a group of fearless knights
• Who feared no wounds or foreign hands.
• Off he rode to Argonia,
• Where strange things did befall,
• And very soon he did not think
• About the weird worm at all.
•  
• The Lambton Worm, it prowls at night,
• Beneath the moons’ pale, silver light.
• It slinks around with silent dread,
• And dreams of milk and sheep well-fed.
•  
• But the worm grew fat and bigger till
• It reached a monstrous size;
• It had huge teeth, a giant mouth,
• And bulging, staring eyes.
• At night it crawled about the land
• To gather bits of news,
• And if it felt a little dry,
• It’d stop and milk some cows.
•  
• This dreadful worm would often feed
• On lambs and calves and sheep,
• And even swallow children whole
• As they lay fast asleep.
• And once it ate all it could eat,
• And had its belly filled,
• It crawled away and wrapped its tail
• Ten times round Bravil’s Mill.
•  
• The news about this awful beast,
• And all the harm it had done,
• Soon reached the ears across the sea
• Of brave and bold Sir John.
• He came back home, and found the beast,
• And chopped it clean in two
• And that stopped it eating sheep and calves
• And lambs and children too.
•  
• So raise your glass to brave Sir John,
• The worm is dead, the fear is gone.
• No more it prowls or haunts the night
• He saved the land and won the fight.
•  
• So now you know how all the folks
• On both banks of the Niben wide
• Lost their herds and peace of mind,
• Dreading what they would find.
• So raise a glass to brave Sir John
• Who kept the children from harm,
• And saved the sheep and calves and lambs
• By cutting in half the famous Lambton Worm.
•  
• Now, I will hold my tongue
• That’s all I know about the story,
• Of Sir John’s clever job
• With the famous Lambton Worm.

The Lambton Worm – SKA

What could be more blasphemous than turning The Lambton Worm into a waltz? Making a SKA version of course!

Lyrics:

• One Sunday morning Lambton went
• To fish in the Niben River;
• He caught a fish upon his hook,
• (It was strange and quivered!)
• But what kind of fish it was,
• Young Lambton couldn’t say,
• He didn’t want to take it home,
• So he threw it away!
•  
• The Lambton Worm, it prowls at night!
• (It prowls at night!)
• Beneath the moons’ pale, silver light!
• (So creepy bright!)
• It slinks around with silent dread,
• And dreams of milk and sheep well-fed!
•  
• Now Lambton felt the urge to go
• And fight in distant lands.
• He joined a group of fearless knights
• Who feared no wounds or foreign hands.
• Off he rode to Argonia,
• Where strange things did befall,
• And very soon he did not think
• About the weird worm at all…
•  
• The Lambton Worm, it prowls at night!
• (It prowls at night!)
• Beneath the moons’ pale, silver light!
• (It steals the night!)
• It slinks around with silent dread,
• And dreams of milk and sheep well-fed!
•  
• But the worm grew fat and bigger still,
• It reached a monstrous size!
• With giant teeth, a cavern mouth,
• And bulging, staring eyes!
• At night it crawled across the land
• To gather bits of news,
• And if it felt a little dry,
• It’d stop and milk some coos!
• (What are coos?)
• Oh, it’s stop and milk some cows!
• (Moooo!)
•  
• It fed on calves and lambs and sheep,
• And swallowed kids in bed!
• Then wrapped its tail ten times around
• The Mill at Bravil. Dread!
• (DREAD!)
• News of this beast, so vile and huge,
• Spread far across the lands
• Sir John returned, and faced the worm,
• He chopped it clean in two!
•  
• So raise your glass to brave Sir John!
• (Brave Sir John!)
• The worm is dead, the fear is gone!
• (The fear is gone!)
• No more it prowls or haunts the night,
• He saved the land and won the fight!
• (Hey! Hey!)
•  
• So now you know how all the folks
• On both banks of the Niben wide
• Lost their herds and peace of mind,
• Dreading what they would find.
• So raise a glass to brave Sir John
• Who kept the children from harm,
• And saved the sheep and calves and lambs
• By cutting into two the famous Lambton Worm.
• Now, I will hold my tongue…
• That’s all I know about the story,
• Of Sir John’s clever job
• With the famous Lambton Worm.

The Morlough Shore

A traditional Irish ballad I have changed slightly to fit a 3/4 waltz rhythm.

Lyrics:

• Ye hills and dales, 
• and flowery vales, 
• that lie near Moorlough Shore. 
• Ye winds that pass 
• through Borden’s grove, 
• will I hear you no more?
•  
• Where primrose grows, 
• and violet shows, 
• where trout and salmon play, 
• with line and hook 
• delight I took 
• to spend my youthful days. 
•  
• Last night I walked 
• to see my love, 
• to hear what she might say, 
• to ask if she 
• could care for me 
• before I go away. 
•  
• She said, “I love 
• that Irish lad. 
• He was my only joy. 
• And ever since 
• I saw his face, 
• I’ve loved that soldier boy.” 
•  
• “Perhaps he’s lost 
• across the sea, 
• gone with another heart. 
• Or maybe fate 
• has turned the tide 
• and keeps you far apart.” 
•  
• “Well if he’s lost, 
• I’ll wait for him, 
• the one I still adore. 
• And seven years 
• I’ll bide my time 
• beside the Moorlough Shore.” 
•  
• Farewell to Sinclaire’s 
• castle high, 
• farewell the foggy dew. 
• Where linen sways 
• on bleach-white fields 
• and silver streams run through. 
•  
• There I once lived 
• my younger days, 
• but now they are no more. 
• For cruelty 
• has cast me out
• away from Moorlough Shore.