The Painter's Tragedy

I was a poor and horrid wretch
Before a family took me in
Found a propensity for sketch
And as I grew
So did my popularity

A well-known artist I bothered
At his recent exhibition
Sold a drawing to your father
A stunning one
Of a dream girl I’d yet to meet

But wouldn’t you know it
I met you sitting there
A ribbon interweaved
Into your long, brown hair
Those eyes did me appall
And then, once and for all
Oh, the tragedy

He informed me of my talent
That the future I’d surely read
Purchased for me a fitting palette
And commissioned
A portrait of his newfound bride

With that next work my fame was spread
And a friend of his I became
A surrogate father, he led
Me in the ways
Of a solid and gentle man

And I lost the image
Of that female phantom
That woman I’d painted
And let go on ransom
But ten years later I
Saw again the startling eyes
Oh, the glory

For the child with whom I’d grown
In the home of that benefactor
Had surely come into her own
And in my sight
Was now the beauty of my dreams

Separated by seven years
The affection of your father
And an ever-increasing fear
That my background
Would hinder my attempts to woo

We fell in love a day
In the windswept summer
Your deepest, secret depths
I longed to search and plunder
The course of our shared fate
Prohibited to date
Oh, the tragedy

We crept to our ravine
To escape this wicked life
And we each promised then
To never say goodbye
And with a shared, weeping cry
I felt a part of me die
Oh, the tragedy