Song of Monmouth

For ages it seems a bloody track

has been drawn through this house

my mother was its only lover,

the beautiful Lucy Walters.

It was evening, the wheat wav'd in the breeze

they kissed beneath the linden

a lark called and a hunter's-horn.

I am a child of sin.

My mother has often told me

of that evening's sun,

its lips said: "I have fallen."

Its eyes laughed at the bliss.

A child of the sin, a Stuart-child,

shines like a hatchet from afar.

The way, that all have stridden,

I will also walk.

The life loved and the crown kissed

and the women the heart given

and the last kiss on the black framework

thus is the life of a Stuart!