- Influence
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The origins of this song are unknown, but it is rumored to have been composed by an unknown author in the wake of the deaths of Julia and Anithias Freedom and the disappearance of their kits, said to be deliberately orchestrated by Talinn Ryalor in the first case, and facilitated in the latter case, in revenge for the deaths of Vaelora Ryalor, Weylin Ryalor, and the Slaughter of the Doves orchestrated by the former Mayor. It grew in popularity among the House's retainers and troops grieving the loss of all of those lost, and, despite some attempts by Talinn and Dusk to discourage it, remains seen as as something of an unofficial anthem for the House.
And who are you, the proud Mayor said, that I must bow so low?
Only a fox of a different brush, that’s all the truth I know.
Whether with a tail of black or a tail of gold, a fox still has schemes,
And mine are devious and deathly, my lord, as devious and deathly as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Mayor of Bouillabaisse
but now the winds blow o’er the graves of him and his love,
with no one left to weep.
Yes, now the winds blow o’er the graves of him and his love, with no one left to weep.
And who are you, the proud Mayor said, that I must be so low?
Only a fox of a different brush, that’s all the truth I know.
Whether with a tail of black or a tail of gold, a fox still has schemes,
And mine are devious and deathly, my lord, as devious and deathly as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Mayor of Bouillabaisse
but now the winds blow o’er the graves of him and his love,
with no one left to weep.
Yes, now the winds blow o’er him and his love, with no one left to weep.
And who are you, the proud Mayor said, that I must bow so low?
Only a fox of a different brush, that’s all the truth I know.
Whether with a tail of black or a tail of gold, a fox still has schemes,
And mine are devious and deathly, my lord, as devious and deathly as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Mayor of Bouillabaisse
but now the winds blow o’er the graves of him and his love,
with no one left to weep.
Yes, now the winds blow o’er the graves of him and his love, with no one left to weep.
And who are you, the proud Mayor said, that I must be so low?
Only a fox of a different brush, that’s all the truth I know.
Whether with a tail of black or a tail of gold, a fox still has schemes,
And mine are devious and deathly, my lord, as devious and deathly as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Mayor of Bouillabaisse
but now the winds blow o’er the graves of him and his love,
with no one left to weep.
Yes, now the winds blow o’er him and his love, with no one left to weep.
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