My father left me here inside his house,
And went to war with all his worthy men.
He left me here with mother and her maids
And went to fight for someone else's wife.

So here I've stayed for sixteen pointless years,
With nobody to teach me how to fight,
Or how to act and what to do and say.
I've learned to shave from men with long white beards,
And set my table well for men I hate,
Because I could not force them from my door
(I've not been taught to force; none here know how).
These weaklings leave engagments wet with wine,
And full of food, not bathed in gore and blood;
They are not like my father, born to fight.

Someday he will return; he knows the way.
And then these suitors will not dare come near.
He'll stand beside my mother as he should,
And teach me all things valorous and good.

back to the highway that never ends