The minstrel of the dawn is here to make you laugh and bend your ear.
Up the steps you'll hear him climb, all full of thoughts, all full of rhymes.
Listen to the pictures flow, across the room, into your mind they go.
Listen to the strings, they jangle and dangle while the old guitar rings.

The minstrel of the dawn is he, not too wise but oh, so free.
He'll talk of life out on the street, he'll play it sad and say it sweet.
Look into his shining face, of loneliness, you'll always find a trace.
Just like me and you, he's trying to get into things more happy than blue.

A minstrel of the changing tide, he'll ask for nothing but his pride.
Just sit him down upon that chair, go fetch some wine and set it there.
Listen to the pictures flow, across the room into your mind they go.
Listen to the strings, they jangle and dangle while the old guitar rings.

A minstrel of the dawn is near just like a 'step and fetchit' here.
He's like an old time troubadour, just wanting life and nothing more.
Look into his shining eyes and if you see a ghost don't be surprised.
Like me and you, he's trying to get into things more happy than blue.

The minstrel boy will understand, he holds a promise in his hand.
He talks of better days ahead and by his words, your fortune's read.
Listen to the pictures flow, across the room into your mind they go.
Listen to the strings, they jangle and dangle while the old guitar rings.

The minstrel of the dawn is gone, I hope he'll call before too long.
And if you meet him you must be the victim of his minstrel scene.
Sing for you a song, the minstrel of the dawn.

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