Lyrics--Threes

Deep into the stony hills, miles from town or hold
A troupe of guards comes riding, with a lady and her gold
She rides bemused among them, shrouded in her cloak of fur
Companioned by a maiden and a toothless aged cur.
Three things see no end, a flower blighted ere it bloomed,
A message that miscarries and a journey that is doomed.

One among the guardsmen has a shifting, restless eye
And as the ride, he scans the hills that rise against the sky
He wears a sword and bracelet worth more that he can afford
And hidden in his baggage is a heavy, secret horde.
Of three things be weary, of a feather on a cat
Of the shepherd eating mutton, and the guardsman that is fat.

Little does the lady care what all the guardsmen know--
That bandits ambush caravans that on these traderoads go.
In spite of tricks and clever traps and all that men can do
The brigands seem to always sense which trains are false or true.
Three things are most perilous--the shape that walks behing,
The ice that will not hold you and the spy you cannot find.

From ambush bandits screaming charge the packtrain and its prize
And all but four within the train are taken by surprize
And all but four are cut down as a woodsman fells a log;
The guardsman and the lady and the maiden and the dog.
Threet hings hold a secret--lady riding in a dream,
The dog that sounds no warning and the maid who does not scream.

The off the lady pulls her cloak, in armor she is clad--
Her sword is out and ready, and her eyes are fierce and glad.
The maiden makes a gesture, and the dog's a cur no more--
A wolf, sword-maid and sorceress now face the bandit corps.
Three things never anger, or you will not live for long,
A wolf with cubs, a man with power and a woman's sense of wrong.

The lady and her sister by a single trader lone
Were hired out to try to lay a trap all of their own
And no one knew their plan except the two that rode that day
For what you do not know you cannot ever give away!
Three things is it better, far, that only two should know--
Where treasure hides, who shares your bed, and how to catch your foe!

The bandits growl a challenge, and the lady only grins
The sorceress bows mockingly, and then the fight begins!
Where it ends there are but four left standing from that horde--
The witch, the wolf, the traitor, and the woman with the sword!
Three things never trust in; the maiden sworn as pure,
The vows a king has given, and the ambush that is "sure."

They strip the traitor naked and then whip him on his way
Into the barren hillsides, like the folk he used to slay--
And what of all the maidens that this filth despoiled, then slew?
Why, as revenge, the sorceress makes him a woman too!
Three things trust above all else--the horse on which you ride,
The best that guards your sleeping, and your sister at your side.