This song was originally composed by Richard the Lionheart, the king of England around the year 1192, when he was imprisoned by Duke Leopold V of Austria after being shipwrecked on his way back to Europe after leading the Third Crusade in the Levant. In the lyrics, a letter he writes to his sister, he complains about how his many friends and subjects refuse to pay the ransom to get him out of prison. The lyrics, translated into English by Charmaine Lee, as are follows:
No prisoner will speak his mind fittingly unless he does so as a man in sorrow; but he can, for consolation, make a song. I have friends enough but the gifts are few; they will be shamed if for want of my ransom I am here for two winters a prisoner.
This my men and my barons – English, Norman, Poitevin and Gascon – know full well: I never had a companion so poor I would leave him in prison for the sake of wealth. I do not say this as a reproach, but I am still a prisoner.
Now I well and truly know for certain that a dead man or a prisoner has no friend or family, since I am left here for the sake of gold or silver. I fear for myself, but even more so for my people, for after my death they will be dishonoured, if I am held prisoner for a long time.
It is no wonder I have a grieving heart when my lord causes havoc in my land. If he were to remember our oath which we both made together, I know for sure that I would no longer be a prisoner here.
The men of Anjou and Touraine, those youths who are free and healthy, know full well that I am held far from them in another’s hands; they would help me greatly but see no money coming. The plains are now empty of fine arms because I am a prisoner.
My companions whom I loved and love still – the lords of Cayeux and of Perche – tell them, Song, that they are not men to rely on: the heart I had for them was never false nor faltering. If they now wage war on me, they will act most basely, as long as I were to remain a prisoner.
Countess sister, may the one to whom I appeal and on whose account I am a prisoner save and guard your sovereign worth for you.
I do not say this about the one in Chartres, The mother of Louis.No prisoner will speak his mind fittingly unless he does so as a man in sorrow; but he can, for consolation, make a song. I have friends enough but the gifts are few; they will be shamed if for want of my ransom I am here for two winters a prisoner.
This my men and my barons – English, Norman, Poitevin and Gascon – know full well: I never had a companion so poor I would leave him in prison for the sake of wealth. I do not say this as a reproach, but I am still a prisoner.
Now I well and truly know for certain that a dead man or a prisoner has no friend or family, since I am left here for the sake of gold or silver. I fear for myself, but even more so for my people, for after my death they will be dishonoured, if I am held prisoner for a long time.
It is no wonder I have a grieving heart when my lord causes havoc in my land. If he were to remember our oath which we both made together, I know for sure that I would no longer be a prisoner here.
The men of Anjou and Touraine, those youths who are free and healthy, know full well that I am held far from them in another’s hands; they would help me greatly but see no money coming. The plains are now empty of fine arms because I am a prisoner.
My companions whom I loved and love still – the lords of Cayeux and of Perche – tell them, Song, that they are not men to rely on: the heart I had for them was never false nor faltering. If they now wage war on me, they will act most basely, as long as I were to remain a prisoner.
Countess sister, may the one to whom I appeal and on whose account I am a prisoner save and guard your sovereign worth for you.
I do not say this about the one in Chartres, The mother of Louis.