Hoof beats on your cobblestones, footsteps on the stairs.
The thirst for young adventure and the old sword hanging there.
And a trumpet in the distance far beyond the walls of time.
A step, a stance, a morris dance, three roses from the vine.

Percherons to carry joust and ships to carry goods.
Fire in the village square mid fancy in the wood.
And a shy response from lance and lips and a hearty laugh from ale.
But the fortress walls have fallen from this old medieval tale.

There are thieves upon the highway, do not fear the things they do.
The arrows in their quivers are for others, not for you.
There are castle walls to conquer now and dungeons to escape.
The joyous squire, the funeral pyre, the candle and the cape.

Bastions, encircled towns and a hundred miles of stone.
The jester and the minstrel sing of hearts but not their own.
The book has all been written and we stand at mercy least.
The savior and the sinner and the beauty and the beast.
And men can be forgiven now but even knights can fail.
But castles walls have fallen from this old medieval tale.

Hoof beats on your cobblestones, footsteps on the stair.
The thirst for young adventure and the old sword hanging there.
A trumpet in the distance far beyond the walls of time.
A step, a stance, a morris dance, three roses from the vine.

Writer(s): David Mallett<br>Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com