Lyrics

Put down your book love and I'll light the fire,
I've a story to tell you before we retire
Let me hold you close while I declare
How I met my true love at the renaissance faire.

North from Chicago were the gentle hills rise,
There's a forest where renaissance magic survives.
Neath the Shagbark hickory and tall green oak,
Five hundred years vanish like ash in the smoke.

Acrobats and troubadours plying their trade,
Jugglers tossing out bold repartee.
Knights in their armor they thunder and swing,
And a raven haired girl she plays violin.

"Wandering Minstrel" was the answer she gave,
When I asked for the name of the tune that she played.
Play it again, again if you please,
And I will find a harmony.

Yes my love, I still remember the garland of clovers you wore.
I knew then I'd found my wandering minstrel,
Together we'd wander no more.

You be my wandering minstrel and I'll be your troubadour.
You be my wandering minstrel and I'll be your troubadour.
You be my wandering minstrel and I'll be your troubadour.
You be my wandering minstrel and I'll be your troubadour.

Now the fire has settled and the coals lie deep,
Rest in my arms love and drift off to sleep.
I will hold you close say a gratetful prayer,
That I met my true love at the renaissance faire.