The Gifts of Beauty and Song Lyrics

A troubadour is a wandering ministrel.
One gift, beauty rare,
Gold of sunshine in her hair,
Lips that shame the red, red rose,
She'll walk in springtime wherever she goes!
nOe gift, the gift of song,
Melody your whole life long!
The nightingale her troubadour,
Bringing his sweet serenade to her door.