The Ballad of Cian the Clever (sung by Bríd)

Oh, gather ye round, let me sing you a tale, Of a thief who’s as swift as a three-legged snail. He calls himself cunning, he swears he’s so sly, Yet runs from the guards with a loaf and a pie! Oh, Cian, my love, you’re quick on your feet, But trouble and you, aye, you always do meet! The Book of Seven Spells, is it gold? Is it grand? Or just one more mess slipping out of your hand? He sneaks through the shadows, he whispers like mist, Till a cat trips him up—now he’s tied at the wrist! The guild won’t accept him, he’s too wild, too free, But luck seems to love him—almost more than me! Oh, Cian, my love, you’re quick on your feet, But trouble and you, aye, you always do meet! The Book of Seven Spells, is it gold? Is it grand? Or just one more mess slipping out of your hand? One day, my rogue, you might open your eyes, And see that the treasure you seek never lies, In pockets or pages, in silver or stone, But here where a heart beats for you all alone. Oh, Cian, my love, you’re quick on your feet, But trouble and you, aye, you always do meet! Run swift, run far, but beware where you land— For one day, my dear, I’ll be holding your hand! [Text: ChatGPT + Amhairgin – Musik: Suno – Idee + Konzeption: Amhairgin – www.coraniaid.de]