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The Bastard's Tale

from Hidden Gold by Drake Oranwood

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about

A tale of vengeance, from the point of view of one of Shakespeare's favorite stock villains... He goes all-in.

Song page: drakethebard.com/bardic/the-bastards-tale/

lyrics

In the village I hail from a man met a maid,
He was caught by her unblemished face.
He professed her his love and she flushed and she smiled
And she took him into her embrace.

But the man was a noble of lofty degree
And his duty soon called him to home.
When he told her the truth on the night that he left
She confessed she had news of her own.

He gave her a bastard! They said,
For worthy she wasn't to wife.
The blood of my childbirth left her with a stain
That she wore for the rest of her life.
The blood of my childbirth left her with a stain
That she wore for the rest of her life.

So when I was a boy, she would try to explain
Why it was we were always alone.
As I grew into manhood, it harder became
To find ways to keep flesh on our bones.

As my mother grew weak, I worked hard every day
On my strength and my speed and my blade.
When she fell ill, I knocked upon door after door
Seeking pay in an honest man's trade.

Nay, you worthless bastard! I heard.
They all saw that villainous brand.
My blood boiled within me that I be denied
For a thing in which I had no hand.
My blood boiled within me that I be denied
For a thing in which I had no hand.

I found other employment to which I was suited—
No pride, but the payment was…good.
So my mother's last days knew a doctor and comfort;
I buried her as a son should.

‘Twas a few weeks ago that I spied a young man
In the clothing and manner well-born,
But the badge on his coat was one I'd heard described
And his face, it was much like my own.

Gods, stand up for bastards! I prayed.
Protect me, and I'll make you smile.
His blood is no thicker than mine at the source
And the color we'll know in a while.
His blood is no thicker than mine at the source
And the color we'll know in a while.

Now the deed, it's been done with professional skill,
And I don't care if I've been fate's pawn;
For my father knows now he has only one heir:
Here I am, on the gallows at dawn.

Think you I'm a bastard? I ask.
Your answer I know in advance.
The river can't separate your blood from mine;
That is done on the rocks we call chance.
The river can't separate your blood from mine;
That is done on the rocks we call chance.

credits

from Hidden Gold, released June 20, 2015
Music, lyrics, vocals: Eric Schrager
Arrangement: Paul Butler, Eric Schrager
Guitar: Dave Lambert
Violin, cello, recorder, mandolin, percussion, snare drum: Paul Butler

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Drake Oranwood Park Ridge, New Jersey

Drake Oranwood (Eric Schrager, he/him) is a singer, songwriter, producer, lutenist, and medieval / renaissance enthusiast who brings modern sensibilities to original songs set long ago and far away.

In the Society for Creative Anachronism, Drake is part of the bardic community, where original and period performances are shared at fire circles and waysides for weary travelers. ... more

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