In his mind he was a Troubadour
But he really couldn't sing,
Had two left feet that couldn't dance,
And he couldn't play lute or mandolin.
But he had this need to communicate
And he found a way to show it;
He practiced long and practiced hard
to become the first performance poet.
He'd paint such pictures with his words
As he declaimed his thoughts out loud
Touch the thoughts and emotions
Of any gathering listening crowd.
He had this need to communicate
So he invented his ideal way
And he would perform his works
Every single market day.
He began to travel far and wide
Where ever he could proclaim
And people gathered just for him
Drawn by his growing fame.
In his mind he was a Troubadour
Who just couldn't learn to sing
So he used his talents differently
To bring the world a brand new thing
