I HAVE MADE UP A SONG.
To begin with, I wasn’t sure what it would be about, but the words “catching fever” kept coming back into my head. I started to think about Winnie, and what Wido and Milon’s men told me about fighting; and that’s when I sharpened this quill.
Blazing hair and tawny eye! Freckle-face!
Winnie, no sooner do I think of you
Than I burn, I freeze, my heart starts to race.That first day we met, that first hour, we both knew.
You’ve plighted your troth, and I’m your true believer,
So why am I anxious that you’ll be true?Men say fighting is like catching fever.
You shiver and sweat, you glory, you curse,
And beg for mercy from God, our Fate-Weaver.That’s just to begin with. It all gets worse.
You get the squits, your smile’s a grimace,
And yet you’re more alive than anywhere else.Love-sickness and battle-fear: Are they the same?
Both painful joy, and both such joyful pain.
I would like Winnie to see my song, but I don’t know whether there will ever be a chance to send it to her.