Presence
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_Words and Music: Dolan Madoc
Source: email
MIDI / NWC / PDF _
Some time ago, a man I know
Would travel far and wide
A marshals book and a range he took
To each and every site.
Chidiock the Younger brought with him
A gift for Calontir
For the joy we know, when we lift our bows
Flows from all that he did here.
_But tell me when, if as I ken,
His presence lingers on,
As we take the line and our arrows fly
Is he ever really gone?_
In ancient days, the sagas say
Lived an archer of renown
From Thousand Hills with mighty skill
Who would wear the Calon crown
Twas Zenobia of Rebelswood
Of her legend you have heard
How a lady fair and an archer rare
Showed us wisdom with her words
_But tell me when, if as I ken,
His presence lingers on,
As we take the line and our arrows fly
Is he ever really gone?_
I can see him stand, with bow in hand
An eye both keen and true
A giant of a man, from southern lands
His skill was matched by few
Bear was known for an arrow thrown
And the Knowne World can attest
Champion of all, but as I recall
Twas his smile I liked best
_But tell me when, if as I ken,
His presence lingers on,
As we take the line and our arrows fly
Is he ever really gone?_
So oft it seems, in life I deem
We're measured by our skill
Far better though, if we could know
The weight of heart and will
Though distance fair and life's despair
Keep him far from Calon home
Brave Owen calls us brothers all
And we claim him for our own.
_But tell me when, if as I ken,
His presence lingers on,
As we take the line and our arrows fly
Is he ever really gone?_
From Three Rivers land comes many a man
Who would fight for land and king
Some seek the skies where the arrows fly
And you hear the bowstring sing.
Where hearts were glad and fun was had
Christoval could be found there
I can still recall, how he brought to all
This passion that we share.
_But tell me when, if as I ken,
His presence lingers on,
As we take the line and our arrows fly
Is he ever really gone?_
For wide for many a mile he would journey staff in hand Though sharp his
blade and sharp his aim he was a gentle man To Otto kralbert? grand worthing
and remember through the years Drink well indeed of the honeyed mead ??
through your tears
_But tell me when, if as I ken,
His presence lingers on,
As we take the line and our arrows fly
Is he ever really gone?_
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