Ladies de Sinestre

O' my Lord and My Ladies give heed to this tale,
As you revel tonight with your wine or your ale,
Among you the Ladies de Sinestre will seek--
So lads mind your manners, they're not timid nor weak!
If they want you, they'll tell you so don't even ask,
If you can't hang with them you're not up to the task!

Now, Mama Marie, long ago called "the Small",
Her "left-handed mead is the best you'll recall,
It will win you right over in Spring or in Yule--
But a pint will dropkick you like that of a mule!

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Now, Morgan was found 'neath an old Rowan tree--
She gets her good looks from her mother not me!
Her wits are as sharp as her rapier too,
And if you're not careful, she'll run you through!

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Oh, Brigit of our house has flaming red hair--
She can dance like a diva walking on air;
She can heal your aches with a touch of her hand--
And make off with your lady before you can stand!

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They say our Susanna is mild and shy,
She lights our camps fire as cooking draws nigh.
Her innocent looks are as clear as the sky--
When she's not kidnapping Scotsmen on the sly!

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Our fair Nicolette is the youngest of these,
Our Italian lass from the southern Elfsea!
Her drink with fruit juice is liquid subtlety--
Too much and you're gone like a ship lost at sea!

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House de Sinestre ladies are fair to be sure--
Their motives are subtle, their thoughts far from pure!
But men mind your manners they're not timid or weak,
These bell-wearing, mead-bearing ladies you seek;
If they want you, they'll tell you, so don't even ask!
If you can't hang with them, you're not up to the task!