This song came to me yesterday in Cerbie's Inn. Its tune is called Trelawney's Army.


THE FIRE


I heard a man crusading, and he should have been more wise,
for he saw not the value of the things before his eyes.
For platinum and gemstones he could understand desire,
but a book he thought was valueless, so throw it on the fire!

CHORUS:
Throw it on the fire, oh, throw it on the fire,
watch the work of ages consumed upon a pyre,
dropped into the garderobe and trampled in the mire:
a book he thought was valueless, so throw it on the fire!

I heard a man declaring it was for the public good
that we go back to ignorance as quickly as we could,
for sharing knowledge freely leads to danger that is dire:
a book, he said, will drag us down, so throw it on the fire!

CHORUS:
Throw it on the fire, oh, throw it on the fire,
watch the work of ages consumed upon a pyre,
dropped into the garderobe and trampled in the mire:
a book, he said, will drag us down, so throw it on the fire!

I heard a man proclaiming that it was an evil thing
that to our precious writing we should resolutely cling,
and though for lack of knowledge may initiates expire,
a book, he said, was bad for all, so throw it on the fire!

CHORUS:
Throw it on the fire, oh, throw it on the fire,
watch the work of ages consumed upon a pyre,
dropped into the garderobe and trampled in the mire:
a book, he said, was bad for all, so throw it on the fire!

I heard a man believing, but I disbelieve his fears,
remembering the Golden Age that vanished in the years.
The pen preserves our knowledge as the sword conveys our ire,
till knowledge conquers Balthazar and throws him on the fire!

CHORUS:
Throws him on the fire, oh, throws him on the fire!
Though we fight both day and night, summoned by the Crier,
we preserve what we have learned, building Valorn higher,
till knowledge conquers Balthazar and throws him on the fire!


Topaz

You claim, my love, that you are lacking worth,
that you are scorned, unseen by gods and men,
though, hearing, I deny it once again,
and praise the blessed day that saw your birth
with songs of joy and festivals of mirth
and prayers of thanks to Cory and to Ben.
What wondrous morn, what day, was dawning when
you came, my love, to rest on Trinald's earth!

For on that day my heart's desire was born,
the far-off harbor where my soul would rest,
as ships a-sail will seek in stormy lands
a guiding light. So speak no more of scorn,
my best-beloved, for I still attest
you hold my life and honour in your hands.