I'v enever been to Oleron yet I feel I've known it well
I've heard the pain and laughter 'neath some travel teller's spell
And though I have no blood that calls me from lands afar
Still, thinking of that magic land, I ofttimes wish that I was there.
Like when I hear the songs that kept them going, 'pon wind and wave,
Songs of hope and dreams, laughing streams, bright knight, and dashing knave
Songs of leavin' dear ol' Ma a-cryin' on the stair
I've never been to Oleron but I sometimes wish'd I'm there.
I've never been to Oleron's land - it must be quite the place
For we who've been left behind to toil and grind all long to see her face
'Tis mayhap the hint of Olerish lilt, come from those rough-edged and gilt, saying "Our stories we will share"
Nay, I've never been to Oleron, but I do wish I was there!
Like when the harps and lyres sound, playing jigs and reels
And your feet drag you out on the floor
And you dance 'til you drink, then you drink 'til you sing
And you sing 'til you can't sing no more
And you raise up a toast to the ones you've loved most
- Treat every man-jack as your brother
Far away from the smoke and the wars and the blood
And the reasons to kill one another
But when I hear the gentle longing in some ancient Olerish aire
I know I've never been to Oleron, but ... Gods! Wisht I was still there!
No I've never been to Oleron, though ofttimes wish I was there....
** This is the lyric that came about after a bit of delving in some ancient tomes in the Shieldwall library. Seems like there are several places that can no longe rbe visited - Oleron among them. If, indeed, such a wondrous place ever truly existed! Of course, I have never been there ... which makes the tone of the song all that more poignant. It was - I suspect - well received at the last gathering of the faithful that took place at the Inn of Dundee not too many marks past. **