(Tune: "I Have a Song to Sing, O!" from Yeomen of the Guard, by Gilbert and Sullivan)

Comments: Gilbert and Sullivan's darkest operetta gives us the tune for this rather cheerful rendition of a much sadder tale (though unlike Yeomen, it has a relatively happy end, at least in the short term). Think "The Silmarillion" on heavy medication. This started out as an Aragorn/Arwen song, but Beren and Luthien’s story fit the song better.

I have a song to sing, O!
Sing me your song, O!
It is sung in the land
Of Beleriand,
By a valiant man and strong, O!
It's the song of the warrior, wandering wide,
In Doriath's land, by the riverside,
When Tinuviel alone he spied
And was lost in the love of the ladye.
Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me, lackadaydee!
Tinuviel alone he spied
And was lost in the love of the ladye.

I have a song to sing, O!
Sing me your song, O!
It is sung in a glade
'Neath the stars, in the shade
To the sound of a fair pipe-song, O!
It's the song of the Elven-maid, peerly proud,
Who sang and danced, and who laughed aloud,
Who was seen by the warrior, wandering wide
In Doriath's land, by the riverside,
When Tinuviel alone he spied
And was lost in the love of the ladye.
Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me, lackadaydee!
Tinuviel alone he spied
And was lost in the love of the ladye.

I have a song to sing, O!
Sing me your song, O!
It is sung in the hall
Of King Elu Thingol
With a marriage deal gone wrong, O!
It's the song of the Elven-king, stern and dour,
Who sent Beren off to Morgoth's tower
For the hand of the Elven-maid, peerly proud,
Who sang and danced and who laughed aloud,
Who was seen by the warrior, wandering wide
In Doriath's land, by the riverside,
When Tinuviel alone he spied
And was lost in the love of the ladye.
Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me, lackadaydee!
Tinuviel alone he spied
And was lost in the love of the ladye.

I have a song to sing, O!
Sing me your song, O!
It is sung in the halls
Of the Dark Lord's thralls,
With the triumph of love life-long, O!
It's the song of the Dark Lord of Angband,
Whose Jewel is clasped in Beren's hand
At the hest of the Elven-king, stern and dour,
Who sent Beren off to Morgoth's tower
For the hand of the Elven-maid, fair and bright,
Who danced for the Dark Lord's throne that night
For the sake of the warrior, brave and bold,
Their story will ever be after told
In the ancient tales and lays of old,
Of Beren One-hand and his ladye.
Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me, lackadaydee!
He sighs no more, for the pain he bore
Was all for the love of the ladye!
Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me, lackadaydee!
He sighs no more, for the pain he bore
Was all for the love of the ladye!

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