Ye Canterbury Kid Bardcore Thrash Mix 2 (Remastered)

Fast-paced Thrash Bardcore, aggressive punk-folk, frantic lute, driving hurdy-gurdy, pounding war-drum percussion, furious male vocal ensemble, angry call-and-response shouts, archaic English, chaotic tavern riot energy, relentless rhythmic momentum, dark minor key, furious dynamic shifts, frantic fiddle, raw clipping acoustic production, 14th century battle ballad feel, 160 BPM

V5.5

[Intro - slow, mournful lute drone]

Upon a halt and withered steed, I rode betwixt the gates,
Cast out from the northern band by cruel and fickle fates.
The hempen neck-tie swayed aloft, a-dancing in the gale,
While every post did bear my face, to tell my wretched tale.

[Chorus - bold, driving rhythm, group chant on refrain]

My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh,
The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die!

[Verse 2 - building tension, percussion enters]

I bound my sorry, limping beast unto the hitching post,
And did step within the "Wanton Wench," where sins are bought and sold,
I called for aqua vitae, the tapster asked for gold,
I flipped him two bits, then pumped him full of lead–
And left ye bastard dead!

[Chorus]

My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh,
The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die!

[Verse 3 - tempo drops, low strings, sinister tone]

A damsel of the shadows cast her gaze from high above,
Upon the wooden balcony, she sought not virtuous love.
With breath that reeked of brimstone-smoke, she drew herself a-near,
The Ace of Hearts upon her hip did bleed with crimson fear.
By lower lip I hauled her up, to chambers dark and drear.

[Chorus]

My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh,
The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die!

[Verse 4 - hushed, then explosive on the final couplet]

I laid me down; she loosed my boots, and stripped my leather hide,
And loosed the knots upon my loins, in youth so firmly tied.
But then the portal burst asunder, shaken from the frame,
A knave of sin and filth stood there, to cry his lady's name.
"That wench is mine" the villain roared!
Quoth I — "Thy words are true!"
Then through his heart I carved a hole, as wide as heaven's blue.

[Outro - grand, slow, triumphant]

My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh,
The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die!
The Canterbury Kid am I —
Art thou prepared to die!

[Solo lute fadeout]

2008/7500

[Intro - slow, mournful lute drone] Upon a halt and withered steed, I rode betwixt the gates, Cast out from the northern band by cruel and fickle fates. The hempen neck-tie swayed aloft, a-dancing in the gale, While every post did bear my face, to tell my wretched tale. [Chorus - bold, driving rhythm, group chant on refrain] My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh, The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die! [Verse 2 - building tension, percussion enters] I bound my sorry, limping beast unto the hitching post, And did step within the "Wanton Wench," where sins are bought and sold, I called for aqua vitae, the tapster asked for gold, I flipped him two bits, then pumped him full of lead– And left ye bastard dead! [Chorus] My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh, The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die! [Verse 3 - tempo drops, low strings, sinister tone] A damsel of the shadows cast her gaze from high above, Upon the wooden balcony, she sought not virtuous love. With breath that reeked of brimstone-smoke, she drew herself a-near, The Ace of Hearts upon her hip did bleed with crimson fear. By lower lip I hauled her up, to chambers dark and drear. [Chorus] My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh, The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die! [Verse 4 - hushed, then explosive on the final couplet] I laid me down; she loosed my boots, and stripped my leather hide, And loosed the knots upon my loins, in youth so firmly tied. But then the portal burst asunder, shaken from the frame, A knave of sin and filth stood there, to cry his lady's name. "That wench is mine" the villain roared! Quoth I — "Thy words are true!" Then through his heart I carved a hole, as wide as heaven's blue. [Outro - grand, slow, triumphant] My trusted musket, heavy-wrought, rests hungry at my thigh, The Canterbury Kid am I — prepare thyself to die! The Canterbury Kid am I — Art thou prepared to die! [Solo lute fadeout]

0/500