All lyrics © 2025 by Toby Mulford
- Prologue – The Fall of Phraille
- The Ballad of Stimbal the Weeper
- City of Gold
- City of Ghosts
- You’re Not Very Smart
- Girl of Clay
- The Lords of Phraille
- When the Talking’s Done, we Fight
- Epilogue – Blue Skies Today
Prologue – The Fall of Phraille
Seven times the lords of Phraille
Sent armed men into the Vale
And seven times the vale folk fled,
Their houses fired and their kinfolk dead
And all this greatly pleased the lords of Phraille.
The first six times, the vale folk came
Back spears in hand and heart aflame.
They slowly beat the armies back
Through guile and stealth and sneak attack
But never could they break the strength of Phraille.
The lords of Phraille held bitter counsel; every night, they’d rail
And swear dark oaths unto each other that the upstart vale
Should rise no more.
No more, no more, no more, no more
The Vale should rise no more
No more, no more, no more, no more
The Vale should rise no more
No more, no more, no more, no more
The Vale should rise no more
No more
The seventh time the vale folk gathered
Their direst warlocks all together.
They honed their sacrificial knives
And worked a spell that cost their lives
And all this to lay waste to warlike Phraille.
They called on long-forgotten gods
To crack Phraille’s walls and salt her sods;
Called every daemon they could name
To wreath the city’s walls in flame,
And that was how doom came to Phraille.
They say that Phraille was lovely on a peaceful summer night,
When hanging fluted lanterns filled the colonnades with light,
With motley minstrels singing charms
For lovers in each other’s arms,
And happy houses’ windows glowing bright.
They owed their peace and plenty to the masters that they served.
Perhaps that was enough, and they all got what they deserved,
But the magic that destroyed them all
Made no distinction, great and small,
And mothers, fathers, children, they all burned.
The vale folks’ pain was trebled and returned.
And when the lazy sun woke up, his golden face turned pale
To see the lengths the Vale had gone to, to ensure that Phraille
Would rise no more.
No more, no more, no more, no more
Phraille would rise no more
No more, no more, no more, no more
Phraille would rise no more
No more, no more, no more, no more
Phraille would rise no more
No more
>The Ballad of Stimbal the Weeper
He was called Stimbal the Weeper
And many cursed his name
He was top cock of the fighting pits with his deadly ball and chain
He paved his way to victory
On the shattered skulls of his enemies
And he wept like a baby as he beat his victims down.
I’ll tell you, once he was a farmer,
A loving family man
But that love would one day break him like his mattock broke the land.
When a fever took his eldest son
His cherished boy, his favorite one
A chain of sadness weighed his spirit down.
Then one day a stranger came to town
In a travel-tattered multi-colored gown
He said, “brother, there’s a shadow on your soul,”
“Let me shoo that shade away and make you whole.”
“Inhale this smoke I call the Leaf of Joy
“I promise you’ll no longer miss your boy.
“I’m honored that you put your trust in me,
“And since I call you friend, your first time’s free.”
Don’t touch that leaf, Stimbal
You’re going to lose it all
When your family says goodbye,
You’ll cry, Stimbal, you’ll cry.
The first time he tried Leaf of Joy
His troubles fell away
He got so lost in bliss he left his cows unmilked for days
His family watched in great dismay
As he sold their tools and clothes away
To buy some more each time that he came down
He piled debt on debt to buy more Joyleaf for the flame,
So high he barely noticed when the debt collectors came
They took his children one by one,
They took his wife when they were gone,
And he smiled when the slavers dragged him down.
He got sober in the slave pits
It nearly cost his mind
He spent a month in agony, enfeebled, dumb and blind
But when he struggled back to life,
He called out for his kids and wife,
And his past came thundering back to tear him down.
Stimbal, face the rising sun
Can you live with what you’ve done?
It’s either that or die,
So cry, Stimbal, cry.
They threw him into the arena
As a little pre-game show
But he hefted up his ball and chain and let that sucker go
The bloody-minded people roared
As he filled the air with flying gore;
Anyone who came too close, he struck them down.
A gladiator’s life is hard –
Most end up maimed or dead
But he fought his way to freedom, broken head by broken head
He swore he’d earn a princely sum,
And find his family, every one
And buy them free if he could track them down
Stimbal, this is not the end
Can you find some way to make amends?
All you can do is try, so cry, Stimbal, cry.
City of Gold
Hey mister, you look like the kind of man who brings the trouble with him
I can tell just by your lantern jaw and your most egregious bulging thews
I hope you’ll take my remonstration in the friendly spirit in which it’s given,
Because one doesn’t have to be my own perceptive self to see that you’re bad news.
The people of the Vale are simple farmers and our wealth is in the soil.
I doubt you’ll find much work in the vocation at which you obviously excel.
But before you violently decide your hopes of occupation have been foiled,
Listen quite acutely to the happy gilded legend I will tell:
There’s wealth up there for you to hold
It’s for the taking by the bold
If I’ve been telling you, you’re told
And man, I’m telling you there’s
Gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead city of Phraille
There’s gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead burned-out city of Phraille
It’s stood like rotten teeth on our horizon for the last two hundred years,
The tales of its deserved annihilation to be sure are less than pretty.
While you must dismiss the legends of its haunting as mere superstitious fears
It’s a fact the lords hid their prodigious wealth in caves beneath the city.
There’s wealth up there for you to hold
It’s for the taking by the bold
If I’ve been telling you, you’re told
And man, I’m telling you there’s
Gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead city of Phraille
There’s gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead burned-out blasted dried-up city of Phraille
(instrumental)
There’s gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead city of Phraille
There’s gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead burned-out blasted dried-up haunted…
I mean, there’s
Gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead city of Phraille
There’s gold
Gold
Gold in the long-dead burned-out blasted dried-up dusty crumbling city of Phraille.
Hey neighbors please don’t thank me now for my quick thinking (not to boast)
A man like him would cause all sorts of trouble if he’d been allowed to linger.
Where he’s going, he’ll be nothing but a meal to feed the hungry ghosts
So dig up all your buried jewels and put the golden rings back on your fingers.
City of Ghosts
It stands like a curse, the city on the hill
It is sepulcher silent and tombstone still
You can enter it by crossing through the sinister space
Where the gate once yawned in the great wall’s face.
The sky above the city is a dead lead gray
It’s the color of a barn with the paint stripped away
No breeze blows, no wind makes a sound
No force but your feet stirs the ashes on the ground
Don’t look back as you walk through the gate
Don’t listen to the listen to the whisper of hate
That swirls through the air, clings to the walls,
Has seeped into the soil since the city’s fall
Get in and out quick, no one has to know at all.
The passage opens out on the ruins of a square
Where a cheering crowd once threw flowers in the air
Above the heads of the soldiers as they marched in file
To castigate the Vale that they so reviled
Do you hear the faintest whisper of a cheer in the gloom?
Does the corner of your eye pick up a flower in bloom?
No no it’s all gray, no no it’s all dead
The stories that you heard are just messing with your head
There’s gold in the city, the old man said.
The statues of the lords line a broken avenue
Struck down like a giant bowled a boulder straight through
They frown from the ground lying down where they toppled
They lean against the rubble or recline on the cobbles
But everywhere the hand of a statue could resist
The destruction, it’s still clenched tight in a fist
They never let go, these lords in a line,
Their hands close, gesturing mine, mine, mine.
Stop staring at the relics, you’re wasting time.
Find the gold that they hid, find the gold where they buried it
You brought along a shovel and a sack for to carry it
But where to begin? That is the trouble
Everywhere you look it’s nothing but piles of rubble
The map that the old man gave you shows the entrance
To the catacombs that could have avoided the vengeance
Of the Vale folk’s warlocks’ fiery fury
So trust to the map and don’t you worry
You wade through the ash on your way to the place,
Wiping at the dust that covers your face
Deeper and deeper you wend through the wreck
Then the hairs stand up on the back of your neck
Who’s there? You could swear that you heard a faint cry
Like a far-away child or a gull flying by
But any kid here would surely die
And no bird flies that stricken sky
It won’t be day forever, no time to lose
The shovel starts chewing on the pile that you choose
But you can’t shift the stones though you struggle and strain
There are places where the rock was melted by the flame
What’s that in the stone, that shape in the stone?
What’s left by a flame hot enough to burn bone?
It’s the shadow of a face etched into the rock
Mouth open in an attitude of permanent shock
Here a hand, there a leg, everything you mistook for
Patterns in the stone, now you know what to look for,
You see all the people everywhere you turn
Forever doing what they did on the day that they burned
How long have you been digging? The sun’s halfway
Down the ladder it descends at the end of the day
You’d expect the west to color to a brilliant red
But the haze even makes the sun look dead
There’s gold in the city, the old man said
You could leave right now, while you still have light
You could let the faces scare you into full-scale flight
But the only face you’re thinking of is your youngest daughter
She was eight years old when the slavers came and got her
So dig down deeper, with all of your might
You brought along some jerky, you can do this all night
If something comes to get you, just be bigger and meaner
You can’t scare a man who’s been in the arena
So kick up the ash, make the dirt go flying
You’ve sweat so much, there’s no water left for crying
That’s done it! With one last heave you rip
Away the stones, exposing the door to the crypt
Watch your step going down – you wouldn’t want to trip
There’s nothing here nothing here anywhere you turn,
It’s just broken clay statues and little brass urns
Your curses echo fierce in the shadows of the tomb
And your flail against the walls goes boom boom boom
That old man’s head’s gonna get split
Wide open once you get your hands on it
As you stomp up the stairs into dead black night
Your lamp giving off its sad little light,
You suddenly see that things aren’t right
When you saw them in the stones, you thought they would stay there
But when have evil curses ever seen fit to play fair?
They’re everywhere, on every side, all around
Their faces are screaming but they don’t make a sound
They reach out toward you, eager as the grave
And you feel a furnace heat coming off of them in waves
You flail with your flail to keep them at bay
But there’s far too many to swat them away
Beyond them, the night is filling with sparks
As fire after fire springs up in the dark
The earth that you’re standing on trembles with fright
As Phraille dies again like it does every night
Now they burst into blue fire, hotter than hell and you
Can hear in the crackle and the hiss that they’re telling you
That everything alive – everything alive –
Every living thing that comes here dies
Back down the stairs with the flail in your grip
But before you’re at the bottom, this time you do trip
Something pops in your ankle as you demonstrate your grace
And the floor flies up and smacks you in the face
They’re coming they’re coming and they’ll burn you where you lie
And you can hardly even see them through the stars in your eyes
Then small hands grab you by the collar and heave
And a small voice tells you that it’s time to leave
Then you’re flying down a tunnel that you didn’t see before
And you follow your guide through door after door
She’s got a little lamp to light up the catacombs,
And over her shoulder, she says you’re almost home.
Home where? Home how? Where are you running?
Are you safe down here, or will the wraiths keep coming?
But out of all your questions, what you want to know most is:
What’s a little girl doing in a city full of ghosts?
You’re Not Very Smart
You’re not very smart, are you?
You’re not quite the cutting-est knife I could find on the shelf
How do you care for yourself?
You came looking for gold, did you?
You came to the haunted-est city for miles around
So, tell me what have you found?
Well, Papa says we haven’t had many looters here, not since the city got turned into to toast
The looters got wise when they saw that the city was guarded by thousands of ghosts
That’s something a person might notice, if he’d been inclined to think twice at the start.
But you’re not very smart.
You’re not very wise, are you?
You’re not who I’d come to if I need some good, sound advice.
Seems you’re also not nice
So now you want to leave, don’t you?
You’re wondering how to squirm out of the trap that you’ve sprung
But dummy, you’re right in the dung
Those ghosts up there won’t let you rest til they’ve burned you to ash, now you’ve stepped on their hive
No, they don’t bother me, but they know who I am, plus I’m not really sure I’m alive
That’s a puzzling question that someone with knowledge and brains could help me pick apart
But not you, you’re not smart.
I’m sure you’ve got questions, and really, I’m sure I would too
If I were you
And though I’ve got some answers, I’ll warn you I’ve got very few
So we’ll have to make do
I’ll take you to see Papa
Perhaps you can get him to stop droning on about art
You’ll like him; he’s also not smart
But don’t let him convince you that my name is Mirabelle; Miri’s my name if you care.
He’s also a ghost. I know that makes you nervous, but what better options are there?
He’ll probably ask for your help, and I’ll tell you,
I wish that our helper could think thoughts worth more than a fart.
But sometimes the person you need doesn’t have to be smart.
Now, this next part’s a doozy; it’s back above ground, and there’s no way to get there but running
And the moment we’re out of this tunnel, you better believe that the ghosts will be coming
So no hesitations, or tripping, or slipping, and I hope that you’re not weak of heart
Ready? Start!
You’re not very fast, are you?
You might want to pick up the pace if you value your hide
I don’t think that they’ll follow inside
Though I won’t deny
You’re the only one hundred percent living person who’s tried
Just a hundred yards more
Make a line for that door
I don’t care if you’re sore
Honestly, I don’t know what you’re good for
Girl of Clay
Welcome stranger settle in
Let’s see, where shall I begin?
A funny couple, you might say:
A ghost of flame, a girl of clay
I was no soldier, was no lord
I bore no banner, swung no sword
I spent the light of every day
Making figurines of clay
I had a daughter and a wife
They were the touchstones of my life
I’d watch them sleeping as they lay
And work their images in clay
I never got the mother right
That body filled with such delight
I could not seem to find a way
To sculpt her precious lines in clay
But my little girl of nine
Her spirit lived in every line
The way she’d laugh or cry or play
I captured all of her in clay
They were at market by the spire
When our home became my pyre
My darlings perished far away
My only company was clay
As I burned, I rose to stand,
Her statue clutched in both my hands
And with my dying breath I prayed
Preserve my daughter in this clay
I do not know what goddess heard
The need and sorrow in my words
But as my fingers burned away
Something happened in the clay
Her form was fired in that blaze
My burning body set the glaze
And when the smoke had cleared away,
There stood a living girl of clay
Two hundred years she has been nine
Alive but held apart from time
If you could spirit her away
Perhaps she could be more than clay
Are you a father? Then you know
The need to let your daughter grow
I beg you, do not turn away
Protect my little girl of clay
You fiery spirits, massed about my home,
I beg you’ll quench your flames like me and let our daughter go
Spirits:
Come, living man, and do not shy
We’ll part and let you pass us by
But go in haste and do not stay
Protect the living girl of clay
Go with our blessing, but beware:
Know, living man, that you now bear
A part of all of us away
Inside this living girl of clay
The Lords of Phraille
And now the hulking lords of Phraille appear
Half-broken statues in a ragged line
Animated by forbidden spells
And by a hatred that refuses time
Their lambent subjects vacillate like wind-blown candle flames
Then part to let them lurch ahead like reapers through the grain
As the phantoms chant their names.
The one whose face is most intact intones:
“the girl belongs to us and may not leave.
“We only wait for the appointed time,
“When we will rise to make the living grieve,
“And once our strength is at its height, each woman, child, and man
“That once called Phraille their home must bend their wills to our demands
“And fulfill our glorious plan.”
Father:
“My lords, I beg you hear my plea,
“I come before you on my knees.
“Mirabelle is not like you or me,
“Please set your only living subject free…”
One statue reaches out a fissured hand
And flicks its wrist to swat the ghost aside.
“It seems this phantom has forgot itself;
“She must remain a subject as she died.
“But living man, in this debate, it’s clear you don’t belong.
“You may leave our city now, unhindered by our throng.
“Spread word of our benevolence beyond our sundered gate,
“And leave the child here with us, to haunt and watch and wait.”
“But Living Man, a special service we require of you:
“The walls of Phraille still pen us in, but you may venture through.
“Spread word of our magnificence and fill the Vale with fear.
“To do this task, we spare your life – but leave the child here.
Miri:
“You’re going to go,
“Aren’t you?
“I would as well, after all it’s the smart thing to do.
“Look, they’ll let you walk through.
“So, dummy, what will you do?”
The blazing phantoms sputter as the flames around them die
The only light a hint of morning in the eastern sky
The effigies stand waiting for this man to make reply
And the whole world holds its breath as moments slowly trickle by…
Stimbal, this is what you do
So take her hand and break her through
Come, swing your chain up high
And cry, Stimbal,
Cry, Stimbal,
Cry, Stimbal…
When the Talking’s Done We Fight
(instrumental)
Epilogue: Blue Skies Today
Maybe tomorrow when a storm comes rolling in
They’ll hunker down in any hole they can
They’ll sit in sodden sadness, soaked and shivering in the wind
As he tries to light a fire with frigid hands
Maybe tomorrow could bring snow or hail or ice
The friendly sun can also sear and burn
The weather’s always fickle when you lead a wandering life
Any moment it could take a nasty turn
Maybe tomorrow their story will turn bad,
When some fresh new cataclysm comes along
The road that rolls before them has a thousand zigs and zags,
And a thousand different ways it could go wrong
But today, they got blue skies
Today, they saw the sunrise
An eastern wind picked up and blew the blackest clouds away
And blue skies are just enough for just today
Maybe tomorrow as they turn their backs on Phraille
They’ll be stalked by wolves with hunger in their eyes
Maybe tomorrow in the next town on the trail
They’ll find halls of welcome full of hidden knives
Tomorrow will the magic that makes Miri live and breathe
Attract a wicked sorceror’s unwanted gaze?
Or will Stimbal find the need for Joyleaf never truly leaves?
Will his best intentions vanish in a haze?
But today, they got blue skies
Today, they saw the sunrise
An eastern wind picked up and blew the blackest clouds away
And blue skies are just enough for just today
A thousand spears are leveled toward them
A thousand foes are waiting for them
Dreaming dreams of tearing them apart
A thousand fearsome beasts to gut them
A thousand ready blades to cut and
The sharpest blades are those they carry with them in their hearts
Maybe tomorrow in the harsh light of the day,
Miri might come to regret the life she fled
Though she chafed at endless childhood, she was safe there in the gray
While a vivid life of deadly color lies ahead
Stimbal’s quest to save his family means he walks a violent road
With bloody mayhem lurking just around the bend
If Miri follows in his footsteps could she someday walk alone
As violent roads lead violent men to violent ends
They know the way they are won’t last forever
But for now they face into the wind together
They walk in step although the road’s a hard one,
Her fresh new hand at rest in his old scarred one
But today, they got blue skies
Today, they saw the sunrise
An eastern wind picked up and blew the blackest clouds away
And blue skies are just enough for just today