TEXT:  
   
  
  Introduction 
  Whether you are an apprentice just learning your 
  craft, or a seasoned bard who has performed before 
  kings, this small book will prove both useful and 
  amusing.  
  Within these pages you will find a collection of my 
  favorite riddles, jokes, poems, ballads, songs, 
  fables, stories and insults. With these you will 
  delight your companions, confound your neighbors 
  and infuriate your adversaries. Please enjoy! 
  Derrin Gladwhisper, chief bard of Waterdeep 
  Easy Riddles 
  Three lives have I – 
   Gentle enough to soothe the skin,  
   Light enough to caress the sky,  
   Hard enough to crack rocks. 
  Water 
  This thing all else devours:  
   Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;  
  Gnaws iron, bites steel;  
   Grinds hard stones to meal;  
  Slays king, ruins town  
  Beats high mountains down. 
  Time 
  What belongs to you but others use it more than 
  you do? 
  Your name 
  What can you keep after giving it to someone else? 
  Your word 
  What does man love more than life?  
   Fear more than death or mortal strife?  
  What do the poor have that the rich require?  
  And what do contented men desire?  
  What does the miser spend, the spendthrift save?  
   And all men carry to their graves? 
  Nothing 
  What has one head, one foot, and 4 legs? 
  A Bed 
  When one does not know what it is,  
   then it is something;  
  but when one knows what it is,  
   it is nothing. 
  A Riddle 
  When you've got it, you want to share it - 
   But when you share it you no longer have it. 
  A Secret 
  Unsavory Jokes 
  A monk was preaching to the people at Baldur’s 
  Gate, and thundering against adultery, which he 
  depicted in colours of the deepest dye. “It is such a 
  horrible sin,” said he, “that I had rather undo ten 
  virgins than one married woman!” At this, many 
  among the congregation gave a hearty “amen!”. 
  ※ 
  A merchant from Red Larch, a very fat and 
  corpulent man, was on his way to Waterdeep one 
  evening and feared he would arrive too late. He 
  enquired of a peasant he met, “Do you think I shall 
  be able to enter the gate?” The country-man, 
  rallying his stoutness, replied, “To be sure, you 
  will; a cartload of hay gets through, why should not 
  you?” 
  ※ 
  A man from Everlund was under the necessity of 
  buying a horse in Waterdeep, and bargained with 
  the dealer, who asked him twenty-five gold pieces. 
  He offered to pay fifteen gold cash, and to owe the 
  rest; to which the dealer agreed. On the following 
  day, when asked for the balance, the buyer 
  refused, saying, “We must keep our agreement: it 
  was settled between us that I was to be your 
  debtor; I should be so no longer if I were to pay 
  you.” 
  ※ 
  A Cormyrian merchant resided in Triboar with his 
  wife and family. His children were thin and lanky, 
  while those of Triboar are generally healthy and 
  hardy. An unfriendly rival asked one day why his 
  children were so spare and of such a weak 
  constitution. “The reason is easily given,” he said. 
  “I work alone at manufacturing my children, but 
  
  you have quite a number of assistants in the 
  making of yours.”  
  A Nonsense Song 
  And can the physician make sick men well?  
  And can the magician a fortune divine?  
  Without lily, germander and sops in wine?  
   
  With sweet-brier 
  And bonfire,  
  And strawberry wire,  
  And columbine.  
   
  Within and out, in and out, round as a ball,  
  With hither and thither, as straight as a line,  
  With lily, germander and sops in wine.  
   
  With sweet-brier,  
  And bonfire,  
  And strawberry wire,  
  And columbine.  
   
  When Chauntea dwelt here, there lived no poor,  
  The king and the beggar with roots did dine,  
  With lily, germander, and sops in wine.  
   
  With sweet-brier,  
  And bonfire,  
  And strawberry wire,  
  And columbine. 
   
  Cutting Insults 
  You are a… 
   craven, hasty-witted mumble-news 
   bawdy, reeling-ripe gudgeon 
   gorbellied, rude-growing hugger-mugger 
   craven, dismal-dreaming vassal 
   beslubbering, weather-bitten clack-dish 
   yeasty, hell-hated skainsmate 
   mewling, bat-fowling ratsbane 
   loggerheaded, onion-eyed fustilarian 
   lumpish, elf-skinned measle 
   unmuzzled, dread-bolted foot-licker 
   unmuzzled, knotty-pated maggot-pie 
   infectious, dismal-dreaming malt-worm 
   saucy, fat-kidneyed nut-hook 
   clouted, reeling-ripe ratsbane 
   infectious, rude-growing ratsbane 
   fobbing, half-faced flirt-gill 
   rank, fly-bitten clotpole 
   puking, rough-hewn maggot-pie 
   jarring, rough-hewn strumpet 
   spongy, rude-growing maggot-pie 
   jarring, beef-witted joithead 
   jarring, fat-kidneyed joithead 
   dankish, dread-bolted flap-dragon 
   paunchy, boil-brained boar-pig 
   pribbling, elf-skinned maggot-pie 
   spongy, dizzy-eyed vassal 
   puking, weather-bitten hugger-mugger 
   fawning, hasty-witted malt-worm 
   puking, idle-headed wagtail 
   
  A Crude Story 
  In the city of Baldur’s Gate there was a man named 
  Osper Longfellow, who was born poor but became 
  the wealthiest of merchants. Seeing his good 
  fortune, his friends pressed him to marry. 
  Weary of their pressure, Osper entered into 
  negotiations with the old women who procure 
  matches, and married a woman as beautiful as the 
  moon shining over the sea. To the wedding banquet 
  he invited kith and kin, noble and priest, friends 
  and foes, and all of his acquaintances. 
  The whole house was thrown open to feasting, so 
  they ate and drank and made merry. The bride was 
  displayed in her dress to the women, who could not 
  take their eyes off her. At last the bridegroom was 
  summoned to the chamber where she sat 
  enthroned. He rose slowly and with dignity from 
  his chair; but in so doing, for he was over full of 
  meat and drink, he let fly a great and terrible fart. 
  In great embarrassment, all the guests immediately 
  turned to their neighbors and talked aloud, 
  pretending to have heard nothing. 
  Mortified, Osper Longfellow turned away from the 
  bridal chamber and as if to answer a call of nature. 
  He went down to the courtyard, saddled his mare, 
  and rode off, weeping bitterly through the night. 
  
  In time he reached Sembia where he found a ship 
  ready to sail for Thesk; so he boarded, arriving 
  ultimately at Telflamm. Here he met with some 
  countrymen who recommended him to the King. 
  This King trusted him and advanced him to the 
  captaincy of his bodyguard. He remained there ten 
  years, in peace and happiness, but finally was 
  overcome with homesickness. His longing to behold 
  his native land was like that of a lover pining for 
  his beloved; and it nearly cost him his life. 
  Finally, he sneaked away without taking leave and 
  made his way to Hillsfar on the Moonsea. Here he 
  donned the rags of a beggar. Keeping his name and 
  circumstances a secret, he set forth on foot for 
  Baldur’s Gate. He endured a thousand hardships 
  of hunger, thirst, and fatigue; and braved a 
  thousand dangers from lions, snakes, and ghouls. 
  Drawing near to his old home, he looked down 
  upon it from the hills with brimming eyes, and said 
  to himself, "They might recognize me, so I will 
  wander about the outskirts and listen to what 
  people are saying. May the gods grant that they do 
  not remember what happened." 
  He listened carefully for seven nights and seven 
  days, until it happened that, as he was sitting at 
  the door of a hut, he heard the voice of a young girl 
  saying, "Mother, tell me what day was I born on, 
  for one of my companions wants to tell my 
  fortune." 
  The mother answered, "My daughter, you were 
  born on the very night when Osper Longfellow 
  farted." 
  No sooner had the listener heard these words than 
  he rose up from the bench and fled, saying to 
  himself, "My fart has become a date! It will be 
  remembered for ever and ever.” 
  He continued on his way, returning finally to 
  Thesk, where he remained in self-exile until he 
  died. May the mercy of the gods be upon him! 
   
  Love Poems 
  STAY, O sweet, and do not rise; 
  The light that shines comes from thine eyes; 
  The day breaks not, it is my heart, 
  Because that you and I must part. 
      Stay, or else my joys will die, 
      And perish in their infancy. 
  ※ 
  SEND me some tokens, that my hope may live 
   Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest  
  Send me some honey, to make sweet my hive, 
   That in my passions I may hope the best. 
  I beg not ribbon wrought with thine own hands, 
   To knit our loves in the fantastic strain 
  Of new-touch'd youth; nor ring to show the stands 
   Of our affection, that, as that's round and plain, 
  No, nor thy picture, though most gracious, 
      And most desired, 'cause 'tis like the best 
  Nor witty lines, which are most copious, 
      Within the writings which thou hast address'd. 
  Send me nor this nor that, to increase my score, 
  But swear thou think'st I love thee, and no more. 
  ※ 
  I ne'er was struck before that hour  
  With love so sudden and so sweet.  
  Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower  
  And stole my heart away complete.  
   
  My face turned pale, a deadly pale.  
  My legs refused to walk away,  
  And when she looked what could I ail  
  My life and all seemed turned to clay.  
   
  And then my blood rushed to my face  
  And took my eyesight quite away.  
  The trees and bushes round the place  
  Seemed midnight at noonday.  
   
  I could not see a single thing,  
  Words from my eyes did start.  
  They spoke as chords do from the string,  
  And blood burnt round my heart.  
   
  Are flowers the winter's choice  
  Is love's bed always snow  
  She seemed to hear my silent voice  
  Not love appeals to know.  
   
  I never saw so sweet a face  
  As that I stood before.  
  My heart has left its dwelling place  
  And can return no more. 
   
   
   
  
  A Strange Song 
  Said the Table to the Chair, 
  "You can hardly be aware 
  How I suffer from the heat 
  And from chilblains on my feet. 
  If we took a little walk, 
  We might have a little talk; 
  Pray let us take the air," 
  Said the Table to the Chair. 
    
   
   
  Said the Chair unto the Table, 
  "Now, you know we are not able: 
  How foolishly you talk, 
  When you know we cannot walk!" 
  Said the Table with a sigh, 
  "It can do no harm to try. 
  I've as many legs as you: 
  Why can't we walk on two?" 
    
   
  So they both went slowly down, 
  And walked about the town 
  With a cheerful bumpy sound 
  As they toddled round and round; 
  And everybody cried, 
  As they hastened to their side, 
  "See! the Table and the Chair 
  Have come out to take the air!" 
   
  But in going down an alley, 
  To a castle in a valley, 
  They completely lost their way, 
  And wandered all the day; 
  Till, to see them safely back, 
  They paid a Ducky-quack, 
  And a Beetle, and a Mouse, 
  Who took them to their house. 
  The Table and the Chair 
   
  Then they whispered to each other, 
  "O delightful little brother, 
  What a lovely walk we've taken! 
  Let us dine on beans and bacon." 
  So the Ducky and the leetle 
  Browny-Mousy and the Beetle 
  Dined, and danced upon their heads 
  Till they toddled to their beds. 
   
  Riddle Rhymes 
  Upon the finger my small weight is set  
  You scarce would feel my presence there, and yet  
  With my one shape, I many forms beget. 
  Ring with Gem 
  Great deeds with little strength I do,  
  I close the open, ope the closed for you.  
  I keep the master's house, the master keeps me, 
  too. 
  Key 
  Bound with iron I, and many shall I bind,  
  By me, though bound, are more to bonds  
   consigned,  
  Many I loose, ne'er loosed myself I find. 
  Chain 
  The tears I cause, though there's no cause to  
   mourn,  
  Still from my upward pathway I am torn,  
  And without me, my father ne'er was born. 
  Smoke 
  My face is like the night, but not so black in shade,  
  And in the midst of day, behold I've darkness 
   made!  
  Through me the stars are hid and the Suns glories  
   fade. 
  Cloud 
  I come from heights afar, by headlong ruin spent,  
  From heaven I'm dispatched, if through the air I'm  
   sent,  
  And me the earth receives from whom, at first, I  
   went. 
  Rain 
  Wet I was and wet again will be  
  Though now by heaven's chain held rigidly;  
  With bare flesh beware of handling me. 
  Ice 
  Dust of the water, light of weight am I;  
  I'm wet in the sun, but in the cold am dry,  
  I can make rivers, though on the ground I lie. 
  Snow 
  
  I thrive on letters yet no letters know,  
  I live in books, the made more studious so,  
  Devour the Muses, but no wiser grow. 
  Bookworm 
  My house I bear with me, and so away I steal,  
  Ready to change my land, nor dreary exile feel,  
  Yet heaven itself to me great wisdom doth reveal. 
  Snail 
  Moral Fables 
  The Ranger and the Woodman  
  A Ranger, not very bold, had been hired to find an 
  Ogre. He asked a man felling oaks in the forest if 
  he had seen any marks of his footsteps or lair.  "I 
  will," said the man, "at once show you the Ogre 
  himself." The Ranger, turning very pale and 
  chattering with his teeth from fear, replied, "No, 
  thank you. I did not ask that; it is his track only I 
  am in search of, not the Ogre himself."   
  The hero is brave in deeds as well as words. 
  The Prince and the Painted Lion 
  A King, whose only son was fond of martial 
  exercises, had a dream in which he was warned 
  that his son would be killed by a lion. Afraid the 
  dream should prove true, he built for his son a 
  pleasant palace and adorned its walls for his 
  amusement with all kinds of life-sized animals, 
  among which was the picture of a lion.  
  When the young Prince saw this, his grief at being 
  thus confined burst out afresh, and, standing near 
  the lion, he said: “O you most detestable of 
  animals! through a lying dream of my father’s, 
  which he saw in his sleep, I am shut up on your 
  account in this palace: what shall I now do to you?'  
  With these words he stretched out his hands 
  toward a thorn-tree, meaning to cut a stick from its 
  branches so that he might beat the lion. But one of 
  the tree’s prickles pierced his finger and caused 
  great pain and inflammation, so that the young 
  Prince fell down in a fainting fit. A violent fever 
  suddenly set in, from which he died not many days 
  later. 
  We had better bear our troubles bravely than try to 
  escape them. 
  The Ass in the Lion's Skin 
  An Ass once found a Lion's skin which the hunters 
  had left out in the sun to dry.  He put it on and 
  went towards his native village.   
  All fled at his approach, both men and animals, 
  and he was a proud Ass that day.  In his delight he 
  lifted up his voice and brayed, but then everyone 
  knew him, and his owner came up and gave him a 
  sound cudgeling for the fright he had caused.  And 
  shortly afterwards a Fox came up to him and said: 
  "Ah, I knew you by your voice." 
  Fine clothes may disguise, but silly words will 
  disclose a fool. 
  More Easy Riddles 
  Bright as diamonds, loud as thunder,  
  Never still, a thing of wonder. 
  Waterfall 
  I drive men mad for love of me,  
  Easily beaten, and never free. 
  Gold 
  I make you weak at the worst of all times.  
  I keep you safe, but you are mine.  
  I make hands sweat, and hearts grow cold,  
   I visit the weak, but seldom the bold. 
  Fear 
  Often talked of, never seen,  
   Ever coming, never been.  
  Daily looked for, never here,  
   Still approaching, coming near.  
  Thousands for my visit wait,  
  But it proves an endless,  
  Though they expect me to appear,  
   They will never find me here. 
  Tomorrow 
  Only runs, and never walks.  
   Has a mouth, but never talks. 
  A River 
  
  Ballads 
  Will you go to the rolling of the stones 
  Or the dancing of the ball? 
  Or will you go and see pretty Amee 
  And dance among them all 
   
  I will not go to the rolling of the stones 
  Or the tossing of the ball 
  But I will go and see pretty Amee 
  And dance among them all 
   
  They hadn't danced but a single dance 
  More than once or twice around 
  Before the sword at her true love's side 
  Gave him his fatal wound 
   
  They picked him up and carried him away 
  For he was sore distressed 
  They carried him and buried him all 
       in the greenwoods 
  Where he was wont to rest 
   
  Pretty Susie she came awandering by 
  With a tablet under her arm 
  Until she came to her true love's grave 
  And she began to charm 
   
  She charmed the fish out of the sea 
  And the birds out of their nests 
  She charmed her true love out of his grave 
  So he could no longer rest 
   
  Will you go to the rolling of the stones? 
  Or the dancing of the ball? 
  Or will you go and see pretty Amee 
  And dance among them all 
   
  I will not go to the rolling of the stones 
  Or the tossing of the ball 
  But I will go and see pretty Amee 
  And dance among them all 
  ※ 
  There were three ravens sat on a tree, 
  Down a down, hey down, hey down, 
  They were as black as black might be, 
  With a down. 
  The one of them said to his mate, 
  Where shall we our breakfast take? 
  With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down 
   
  Down in yonder green field, 
  Down, a down, hey down, hey down, 
  There lies a knight slain 'neath his shield, 
  With a down. 
  His hounds they lie down at his feet, 
  So well they do their master keep, 
  With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down. 
   
  His hawks they fly so eagerly, 
  Down a down, hey down, hey down, 
  No other fowl dare come him night, 
  With a down. 
  Down there comes a fallow doe 
  As great with young as might she go 
  With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down 
   
  She lifted up his bloody head, 
  Down a down, hey down, hey down, 
  And kissed his wounds that were so red, 
  With a down. 
  She got him up upon her back, 
  And carried him to earthen lake, 
  With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down 
   
  She buried him before the prime 
  Down a down, hey down, hey down, 
  She was dead herself ere e'en-song time, 
  With a down. 
  Gods send every gentleman, 
  Such hawks, such hounds, and such a leman. 
  With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down 
   
  Poems of Love Lost 
  Never seek to tell thy love,    
    Love that never told can be;    
  For the gentle wind doth move    
    Silently, invisibly.    
     
  I told my love, I told my love, 
    I told her all my heart,    
  Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.    
    Ah! she did depart!    
     
  Soon after she was gone from me,    
    A traveler came by, 
  Silently, invisibly:    
    He took her with a sigh. 
  ※ 
  
  I went to the Garden of Love, 
  And saw what I never had seen: 
  A Chapel was built in the midst, 
  Where I used to play on the green. 
   
  And the gates of this Chapel were shut, 
  And Thou shalt not. writ over the door; 
  So I turn'd to the Garden of Love, 
  That so many sweet flowers bore.  
   
  And I saw it was filled with graves, 
  And tomb-stones where flowers should be: 
  And Priests in black gowns,  
   were walking their rounds, 
  And binding with briars, my joys & desires. 
   
  A Song of Leaving 
  Now, O now, I needs must part, 
  Parting though I absent mourn. 
  Absence can no joy impart: 
  Joy once fled cannot return. 
  While I live I needs must love, 
  Love lives not when Hope is gone. 
  Now at last Despair doth prove, 
  Love divided loveth none. 
   
  (chorus) 
  Sad despair doth drive me hence, 
  This despair unkindness sends. 
  If that parting be offence, 
  It is she which then offends. 
   
  Dear, when I am from thee gone, 
  Gone are all my joys at once. 
  I loved thee and thee alone, 
  In whose love I joyed once. 
  And although your sight I leave, 
  Sight wherein my joys do lie, 
  Till that death do sense bereave, 
  Never shall affection die. 
   
  Dear if I do not return 
  Love and I shall die together, 
  For my absence never mourn, 
  Whom you might have joyed ever. 
  Part we must, though now I die. 
  Die I do to part with you. 
  Him despair doth cause to lie, 
  Who both lived and died true. 
   
  A Love Song 
  ‘My sweetheart, come along! 
        Don’t you hear the fond song, 
  The sweet notes of the nightingale flow? 
        Don’t you hear the fond tale 
        Of the sweet nightingale, 
  As she sings in those valleys below? 
        So be not afraid 
        To walk in the shade, 
  Nor yet in those valleys below, 
  Nor yet in those valleys below. 
   
        ‘Pretty Betsy, don’t fail, 
        For I’ll carry your pail, 
  Safe home to your cot as we go; 
        You shall hear the fond tale 
        Of the sweet nightingale, 
  As she sings in those valleys below.’ 
        But she was afraid 
        To walk in the shade, 
  To walk in those valleys below, 
  To walk in those valleys below. 
   
        ‘Pray let me alone, 
        I have hands of my own; 
  Along with you I will not go, 
        To hear the fond tale 
        Of the sweet nightingale, 
  As she sings in those valleys below; 
        For I am afraid 
        To walk in the shade, 
  To walk in those valleys below, 
  To walk in those valleys below.’ 
   
        ‘Pray sit yourself down 
        With me on the ground, 
  On this bank where sweet primroses grow; 
        You shall hear the fond tale 
        Of the sweet nightingale, 
  As she sings in those valleys below; 
        So be not afraid 
        To walk in the shade, 
  Nor yet in those valleys below, 
  Nor yet in those valleys below.’ 
   
        This couple agreed; 
        They were married with speed, 
  And soon to the church they did go. 
        She was no more afraid 
        For to walk in the shade, 
  
  Nor yet in those valleys below: 
        Nor to hear the fond tale 
        Of the sweet nightingale, 
  As she sung in those valleys below, 
  As she sung in those valleys below. 
   
  More Fables 
  The Bear and the Two Travelers  
   TWO MEN were traveling together, when a Bear 
  suddenly met them on their path.  One of them 
  climbed up quickly into a tree and concealed 
  himself in the branches.  The other, seeing that he 
  must be attacked, fell flat on the ground, and when 
  the Bear came up and felt him with his snout, and 
  smelt him all over, he held his breath, and feigned 
  the appearance of death as much as he could.   
  The Bear soon left him, for it is said he will not 
  touch a dead body.  When he was quite gone, the 
  other Traveler descended from the tree, and 
  jocularly inquired of his friend what it was the Bear 
  had whispered in his ear.  "He gave me this advice," 
  his companion replied.  "Never travel with a friend 
  who deserts you at the approach of danger."   
  Misfortune tests the sincerity of friends. 
  The Boy and the Nettles  
  A BOY was stung by a Nettle.  He ran home and 
  told his Mother, saying, "Although it hurts me very 
  much, I only touched it gently."  
  "That was just why it stung you," said his Mother. 
  "The next time you touch a Nettle, grasp it boldly, 
  and it will be soft as silk to your hand, and not in 
  the least hurt you."   
  Whatever you do, do with all your might. 
  The Eagle and the Arrow 
  An Eagle was soaring through the air when 
  suddenly it heard the whizz of an Arrow, and felt 
  itself wounded to death.  Slowly it fluttered down to 
  the earth, with its life-blood pouring out of it.   
  Looking down upon the Arrow with which it had 
  been pierced, it found that the shaft of the Arrow 
  had been feathered with one of its own plumes.  
  "Alas!" it cried, as it died, 
  We often give our enemies the means for our own 
  destruction. 
   
  The Beggars Song 
  Of all the trades in Faerun  
   the beggin' is the best 
  For when a beggar's tired  
   he can lay him down and rest 
   
      (chorus) 
      And a-beggin' I will go 
      And a-beggin' I will go 
   
  I've a pocket for my oatmeal  
   and another for my salt 
  I've a pair of little crutches that  
   should see how I can bolt 
   
  There's patches on my fusty coat  
   and a black patch on my eye 
  But when it comes to too cheap ale  
   I can see as well as thee 
   
  My britches they are no but holes  
   but my heart is free of care 
  As long as I've my belly full  
   my backside can go bare 
   
  I've been deaf at Baldur’s Gate and  
   I've been blind at Shaw 
  And many’s the right and willing lass  
   I've bedded in the straw 
   
  There's a bed for me where'er I lie  
   and I don't pay no rent 
  I've got no noisy looms to mind  
   and I am right content 
   
  I can rest when I am tired and  
   I heed no master's bell 
  You men'd be daft to be a king  
   when beggars live so well 
   
  More Love Poems 
  Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
    And I will pledge with mine; 
  Or leave a kiss but in the cup 
    And I'll not look for wine. 
  The thirst that from the soul doth rise 
    Doth ask a drink divine; 
  But might I of Love’s nectar sup, 
  
    I would not change for thine. 
   
  I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 
    Not so much honoring thee 
  As giving it a hope that there 
    It could not wither'd be; 
  But thou thereon didst only breathe 
    And sent'st it back to me; 
  Since when it grows,  
        and smells, I swear, 
    Not of itself, but thee! 
  ※ 
  Come live with me and be my Love, 
  And we will all the pleasures prove, 
  That hills and valleys, dales and field, 
  Or woods or steeply mountain yields. 
   
  And we will sit upon the rocks 
  And see the shepherds feed their flocks, 
  By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
  Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
   
  And I will make thee beds of roses 
  And a thousand fragrant posies, 
  A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
  Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle. 
   
  A gown made of the finest wool, 
  Which from our pretty lambs we pull, 
  Fair linèd slippers for the cold, 
  With buckles of the purest gold. 
   
  A belt of straw and ivy buds 
  With coral clasps and amber studs: 
  And if these pleasures may thee move, 
  Come live with me and be my Love. 
   
  Thy silver dishes for thy meat 
  As precious as the gods do eat, 
  Shall on an ivory table be 
  Prepared each day for thee and me. 
   
  The shepherd swains shall dance and sing 
  For thy delight each May-morning: 
  If these delights thy mind may move, 
  Then live with me and be my Love. 
  ※ 
  If all the world and love were young, 
  And truth in every shepherd's tongue, 
  These pretty pleasures might me move 
  To live with thee and be thy Love. 
   
  But Time drives flocks from field to fold; 
  When rivers rage and rocks grow cold; 
  And Philomel becometh dumb; 
  The rest complains of cares to come. 
   
  The flowers do fade, and wanton fields 
  To wayward Winter reckoning yields: 
  A honey tongue, a heart of gall, 
  Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 
   
  Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, 
  Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies 
  Soon break, soon wither--soon forgotten, 
  In folly ripe, in season rotten. 
   
  Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, 
  Thy coral clasps and amber studs,  
  All these in me no means can move 
  To come to thee and be thy Love. 
   
  But could youth last, and love still breed, 
  Had joys no date, nor age no need, 
  Then these delights my mind might move 
  To live with thee and be thy Love. 
   
  More Jokes 
  Alberich Greathill, a notable sage of a sarcastic 
  turn of mind and chiding disposition, was never 
  short of words, but sometimes of discretion. He 
  was one day visited by a very clever child, ten years 
  old, who addressed him a short, but neat 
  compliment. Surprised at the child's earnestness 
  and facility of speech, Alberich put to her several 
  questions, which were cleverly answered.  
  Turning to his disciples, he said, “With those who 
  from childhood, show so much wit and proficiency, 
  intelligence decreases as the years’ increase, and 
  they come to be fools in their old age.” 
  “Why then”, immediately retorted the child, “You 
  must have been most preeminent for learning and 
  wisdom in your tender years!”   
  ※ 
  An inhabitant of Neverwinter was going along the 
  streets, wrapped in thought and melancholy, and, 
  being met by someone who enquired the motive of 
  his concern, replied that he owed money which he 
  
  could not pay. The man responded, “Leave that 
  anxiety to your creditor.” 
  ※ 
  An inhabitant of Berdusk, an exceedingly jealous 
  man, racked his brains for a way of ascertaining, 
  without a shadow of a doubt, whether his wife had 
  an intimacy with any other man. By a deeply 
  matured contrivance, well worthy of a jealous 
  mind, he emasculated himself with his own hands. 
  “Now,” he thought, “if my wife becomes pregnant, 
  she will not be able to deny her adultery.” 
  ※ 
  A man who had given his wife a valuable dress, 
  complained that he never exercised his marital 
  rights without it costing him more than a gold 
  piece each time. “It is your fault,” answered the 
  wife, “why do you not, by frequent repetition, bring 
  down the cost to a copper?” 
   
  More Insults 
  You are a… 
   dankish, dread-bolted flap-dragon 
   beslubbering, tardy-gaited bladder 
   mangled, bat-fowling haggard 
   cockered, reeling-ripe boar-pig 
   fobbing, swag-bellied flax-wench 
   fobbing, full-gorged bum-bailey 
   loggerheaded, tickle-brained clotpole 
   craven, spur-galled measle 
   roguish, unchin-snouted fustilarian 
   spleeny, swag-bellied skainsmate 
   craven, hasty-witted joithead 
   frothy, milk-livered foot-licker 
   vain, full-gorged scut 
   mangled, pox-marked clack-dish 
   dissembling, fat-kidneyed strumpet 
   surly, fly-bitten moldwarp 
   paunchy, boil-brained lewdster 
   dissembling, tickle-brained joithead 
   spleeny, plume-plucked wagtail 
   churlish, hell-hated wagtail 
   frothy, rump-fed scut 
   lumpish, hell-hated fustilarian 
   
  More Love Songs 
  When to her lute Corinna sings, 
  Her voice revives the leaden strings, 
  And doth in highest notes appear, 
  As any challenged echo clear; 
  But when she doth of mourning speak, 
  E'en with her sighs, the strings do break, 
   
  And as her lute doth live or die, 
  Led by her passion, so must I: 
  For when of pleasure she doth sing, 
  My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring, 
  But if she doth of sorrow speak, 
  E'en from my heart the strings do break. 
  ※ 
  Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly, 
  Bright as the sun, fair as the lily, 
  Heigh ho, how I do love thee! 
  I do love thee as my lambs 
  Are belovéd by their dams; 
  How blest were I if thou would'st prove me? 
   
  Diaphenia like the spreading roses, 
  That in thy sweets all sweets encloses, 
  Fair sweet, how I do love thee! 
  I do love thee as each flower 
  Loves the sun's life-giving power; 
  For dead, thy breath to life might move me. 
   
  Diaphenia like to all things blesséd, 
  When all thy praises are expresséd, 
  Dear joy, how I do love thee! 
  As the birds do love the spring, 
  Or the bees their careful king: 
  Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me! 
   
  More Riddle Rhymes 
  Bind are my eyes, in darkness I grow, 
  And day is like night, for Sun I don’t know, 
  I live in the ground; none find me there so. 
  Mole 
  
  Nine lives have I, if sages don’t deceive; 
  I'm clad in black, but not because I grieve, 
  Though angered not, I curse, for curses I conceive. 
  Crow 
  A prickly house a little host contains; 
  His pointed spears keep him from pains, 
  So he, unarmed, in his safe fort remains. 
  Hedgehog 
  With raging teeth, I mangle what I slay, 
  And gory victims seek and blood-stained prey, 
  And in my madness many things slay. 
  Wolf 
  My bravery exceeds my body's size, 
  I’m adept in cunning and skilled in lies, 
  A wise beast I, if any beast is wise. 
  Fox 
  My form with neither parent's doth agree 
  Of mingled race not fit for progeny, 
  Though of others born, there's none born of me. 
  Mule 
  Another Crude Story 
  It was mid-winter when a ne’er-do-well named 
  Longbottom arrived at Triboar. Times were hard, 
  but finally he found a furrier who was willing to 
  take on an apprentice, and he was put to work 
  sewing pelts. Not being accustomed to the smell of 
  the curing hides, he said, "Pew! Pew! You are as 
  white as chalk, but stink like dung!" 
  The furrier said, "If you don't like the smell, then 
  why are you a furrier's apprentice? It's a natural 
  smell. It's only wool." 
  Longbottom said nothing, but thought, "One bad 
  thing can drive another bad thing away." Then he 
  let such a sour fart that the furrier and his wife 
  had to stop working. 
  The furrier said, "If you have to fart like that, then 
  go out into the courtyard. There you can fart as 
  much as you like." 
  Longbottom answered, "A fart is more natural and 
  healthier than the stench of your sheep pelts." 
  The furrier said, "Healthy or not, if you want to 
  fart, then go outside." 
  Longbottom said, "Master, it would do no good, 
  because farts don't like the cold. They are used to 
  being in a warm place. That's why if you let a fart it 
  always rushes for your nose. It goes from one warm 
  place to another." 
  The furrier said nothing, for he could see that 
  Longbottom knew nothing of the furrier trade and 
  was a rogue at that. And he sent him on his way. 
  Final Insults 
  You are a… 
   bawdy, dizzy-eyed mumble-news 
   cockered, doghearted mammet 
   weedy, unchin-snouted hugger-mugger 
   mewling, motley-minded flirt-gill 
   wayward, common-kissing whey-face 
   paunchy, dismal-dreaming mammet 
   impertinent, clay-brained bugbear 
   paunchy, flap-mouthed miscreant 
   jarring, rough-hewn whey-face 
   villainous, pottle-deep barnacle 
   beslubbering, rough-hewn measle 
   weedy, flap-mouthed measle 
   beslubbering, dismal-dreaming hugger-mugger 
   wayward, tickle-brained harpy 
   tottering, rude-growing boar-pig 
   villainous, earth-vexing foot-licker 
   venomed, rude-growing moldwarp 
   impertinent, pottle-deep giglet 
   paunchy, guts-griping canker-blossom 
   fawning, pox-marked puttock 
     
  Credits & Legals 
  Design: M.T. Black 
  Acknowledgement: The idea for this supplement 
  came to me after listening to a skilled player in the 
  role of a bard amusing his companions all game 
  with his stories and witticisms.  Not everyone has 
  such skills - my hope is that this product will help. 
  
  I have drawn most of this material from authentic 
  medieval and renaissance sources, though there is 
  some contemporary material in here as well. I have 
  updated the language in some instances and also 
  moved the geography into the Forgotten Realms. 
  I’m aware that Raging Swan published a similar 
  product to this some years ago, though I have not 
  yet read it.  
  DUNGEONS & DRAGONS, D&D, Wizards of the 
  Coast, Forgotten Realms, the dragon ampersand, 
  Player’s Handbook, Monster Manual, Dungeon 
  Master’s Guide, D&D Adventurers League, all other 
  Wizards of the Coast product names, and their 
  respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the 
  Coast in the USA and other countries. All 
  characters and their distinctive likenesses are 
  property of Wizards of the Coast. This material is 
  protected under the copyright laws of the United 
  States of America. Any reproduction or 
  unauthorized use of the material or artwork 
  contained herein is prohibited without the express 
  written permission of Wizards of the Coast. 
   
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Dungeons & Dragons [multi]/5th Edition (5e)/3rd Party/M.T. Black/Bard Tales, Vol 1.pdf