Sing Nightingale

Please sing a song, sing a hymn, sing a summer's night. You sang it loud, sang it proud, bathed in candle light. A tainted wretch, heartless fiend, yet still a nightingale. Your youth wasted, life hasted, for what? A passion stale. In darkness black, damp moist green, you're left wallowing. A foolish whim, pointless sin, over just a thing. A subject old, valued thing, In gold and regal power. Shame you lack sense, skilled judgement, your plan was sure to sour. So in this cell, in this cage, sing Sir's nightingale. Watch your vision's, rich dreams yours, blow a fated gale.