▶ This song will be out mid-August, but you can listen to my other work on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5BSPl6yCVGvrCyKUp2peGM?si=yyY9lJHsTwq-vf4y2nv9DQ ▶ Consider supporting the channel on Patreon, where I share all my instrumentals: https://patreon.com/hildegardvonblingin I'm thrilled to welcome my brother Friar Funk back for a feature in this cover of the Wheatus angst anthem "Teenage Dirtbag". We had a lot of fun recording in between bellowing Mordhau and Elder Scrolls lines at each other. Oh, and before anyone gets all clever in the comments, yes the iron maiden (ye old spiked sarcophagus) is mostly a myth, but you'll have to forgive the anachronism because how could I not keep that in? As always, this music is human made. I wrote the lyrics, created the instrumental from a mix of real and sampled instruments, and we recorded the vocals in my little turret studio. I'll provide a few notes about the language, because there are some fun words in this one. Greenhorn: an inexperienced person/newcomer who lacks skill and knowledge. Wagtail: An obsequious, timid person who fawns and bows like e nervous bird. Hedgeborn: A person born of low, mean, or unknown birth. Perhaps even on the side of the road somewhere. Blaggard: A scoundrel, a rogue, or a rascal. The Art: I illustrated this one from scratch but looked at lots of sad peasants in manuscripts during the process. The Lyrics: Her name is Noelle I have a dream about her Under some spell I’ve Vespers within the hour How she is fair With flowers in her hair But she knoweth not that I live And she giveth not a fig about me For I’m but a greenhorn wagtail, lady Naught but a hedgeborn blaggard, lady I'd stand in an iron maiden, lady for thee, oh Her lord is uncouth He bringeth a sword to Mass Knew he but the truth My hide he would surely thrash His keep's on the hill 'Tis his fields I till But he knoweth not that I live And he giveth not a fig about me For I’m but a greenhorn wagtail, lady Naught but a hedgeborn blaggard, lady I'd stand in an iron maiden, lady for thee, oh Oh, greenhorn! She knoweth not what she is missing Oh, hedgeborn! She knoweth not what she is missing I feel overbold This banquet is far too lofty Lo and behold She walketh over to me Must be some ruse, I'll end in the noose How doth she know that I live? And why doth she care a whit about me? I've two palfreys to flee to fair Arcady Come with me three days hence, I pray thee I'm naught but a greenhorn wagtail, truly like thee, oh Oh, greenhorn! She knoweth not what she is missing Oh, hedgeborn! She knoweth not what she is missing