To sing the high pitched sound To be a boy in town The dreaded word to hear Is castration.
I sing the high pitched sound I love to sing out loud I’m in the lord’s favour Mistral’s fingers I shall own But let my tender bits alone?
I wish to sing my way To the courts of Rome To places far away But surely it should be fashion To let a boy become a man And let a man’s voice sing out loud.
I have done no wrong Just danced a dance Just sung a song But my lord’s men have come today I’m to be his minstrel in a day To the healer, I must not stray I shall not ‘come a man. For my voice For my future As a boy.