Deep, Deep Down – A Mediaeval Ditty Poem by C Richard Miles

Deep, deep down in the dull, dark dungeon,
Doomed, the duke’s dainty daughter dwells,
Fastened firm by fearsome fetters;
Cell safe-secured by secret spells.

Dank and dark and drear is the dungeon,
Where the fair maid must spend her days.
There she sits, forlorn for ever,
Walled by the wizard’s wicked ways.

But day’s dim light dawns through the barred window,
Flickering faintly through the dark,
And, on the air, she senses sweet singing;
‘Tis the singing of a lark.

“O, lark, ” cries she, “O wilt thou aid me?
Away! Go warble where my prince waits:
Tell to him the sad, sad story
Of the fair maid behind grim gates.”

To this, the lark lovingly listened
And prompt to the prince in the palace did fly
And sung the sad song of the duke’s dainty daughter,
Its musical melody filling the sky.

Prince heard the message, swiftly responded,
Saddled his stallion, set off in haste,
Rapidly rode o’er valley and mountain,
Never a moment of time did he waste,

Broke down the door of the deep, dark dungeon,
Delivered the duke’s dainty daughter from doom,
Slew snarling sorcerer swiftly by sword,
No more to menace the maid with his gloom,

Took back his princess to the pearl palace,
Never again to be dismal in jail,
Married the maid on a merry May morning
And so I come to the end of my tale.