THE BLUE QUILL OF TURMUS

THE BLUE QUILL OF TURMUS

VERSE ONE
Beside the river, through the gates,
Where merchant vessels lie,
I set the scrolls upon the desk
As morning climbs the sky.
My robe is blue, my ink is dark,
The gathered voices still;
I greet the hall and turn the scroll,
Then lay aside my quill.

CHORUS
Come, turn the scroll and hear the words,
Then tell me what you see;
What keeps a city standing strong,
What binds its people free?
From riverbank to council hall,
Through all we say and do,
May wisdom guide the hand that writes
And those who wear the blue.

VERSE TWO
We speak of tribute, coin, and grain,
Of what the cities owe;
Of hands that fill the market stalls
And ships that come and go.
Who pays to mend a broken wall?
Whose word may grant the gold?
We weigh the duties of the Free
Against the words of old.

CHORUS
Come, turn the scroll and hear the words,
Then tell me what you see;
What keeps a city standing strong,
What binds its people free?
From riverbank to council hall,
Through all we say and do,
May wisdom guide the hand that writes
And those who wear the blue.

VERSE THREE
We trace the making of a law,
The voice that makes it known;
For words must reach beyond the room
Where rulers sit alone.
A student asks; I pause to hear,
And turn the scroll once more.
One question opens up a path
We had not seen before.

VERSE FOUR
A seal, a name, a traveller’s writ,
A vessel bound for sea;
The merchant’s house, the city’s gate—
Each holds a lesson’s key.
And when a quarrel reaches us,
I set each statement down;
The judgment waits upon the one
Who serves the court and town.

BRIDGE
The lesson ends; the scroll is rolled,
Yet someone stays behind.
We sit and speak beside the desk
Of what still clouds the mind.
For all the books upon the shelf,
For all the ink we spend,
Sometimes the work begins anew
Where we had thought to end.

FINAL CHORUS
Come, turn the scroll and hear the words,
Then tell me what you see;
What keeps a city standing strong,
What binds its people free?
Beside the river, lamps are lit,
The evening bells ring through;
Tomorrow finds an open scroll
And one who wears the blue.

I imagine a gentle, dignified ballad, with the feeling of an old song sung in a stone hall.

A lute would begin alone, plucking a repeating melody. Your voice would enter softly, almost telling the story. A low hand drum would join in the chorus, and a flute could answer between verses.

It would have a slow, swaying rhythm—ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three—like an unhurried boat on the river. The verses would sound thoughtful, with a slightly wistful melody. On “Come, turn the scroll and hear the words,” the tune would rise and open out, inviting the others to sing with you.

The final line, “And one who wears the blue,” would settle gently onto a long note, with the lute fading after it.

Warm and modest, suited to your teaching: a song people could learn by hearing it a few times.

An intimate acoustic ballad set in the fictional world of Gor, sung by a mature woman who teaches in the river city of Turmus. Warm, clear female lead vocal with natural storytelling phrasing and precise pronunciation.

Slow, swaying 6/8 time, about 66 dotted-quarter beats per minute. A modal folk melody centered on D minor, with a warmer, rising chorus that is easy for a gathering to sing.

Begin with a short solo plucked-lute introduction. Keep the verses sparse, adding a soft wooden flute between vocal phrases. Introduce a quiet hand drum during the choruses. A small group of voices gently joins the lead in the final chorus.

The atmosphere is a lamplit stone educational hall beside a river: thoughtful, welcoming, dignified, and slightly wistful. Let the words remain clearly audible throughout.

Sing the bridge more quietly, then build gently into the final chorus. Hold the last word, “blue,” and end with the lute alone.

Use acoustic instruments throughout. No electronic sounds, electric guitars, modern pop beat, dramatic orchestral effects, or operatic vocals. Do not sing the title or section labels.