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You asked for a room, and you laid down your money
At the Inn of the Travelers’ Rest
And will you be wanting two pillows, she asked,
As she brushed her hair clear of her chest
Here’s some good ale, here’s some good mutton
Here’s a good pigeon, she cooed
I hope you’ve still got an appetite on you
You knew that she didn’t mean food


Was it hot, my good laddie, there by the fire
Hot as a furnace, burning bright
Keep your eyes on her and keep breathing deep
At the Travelers’ Rest in the night


She came to your room and you gave her the money
That opened her laces and stays
And though there had been other women before her
She’d haunt you the rest of your days
Here comes the peak, she cried in your ear,
Here comes the blessed release
Drift in my arms, sleep come upon you
With sentinels guarding your peace

Was it warm, my good laddie, there in her arms
Warm as a Sunday, dappled with light
Keep your eyes closed, and keep breathing deep
At the Travelers’ Rest in the night


When the headboard shifted, did you hear it?
When the blade glinted, did you see it?
When the axe struck, did you feel it?
Or were you still breathing deep
In unbroken sleep?


They’re in the back room, counting your money
Which you will not spend anymore
You’re in the woods, near a comforting elm tree
With nothing surprising in store
It is said that the spirits that wander the forest
Gladly guide others their way
It is said that their bodies hold hands eternally
Smiling under the clay

Are you cold, my good laddie, there in the ground
Cold as a winter morn, blanketed white
Breathe nevermore, and lead weary fellows
To where travelers rest in the night
To where travelers rest in the night

The "plot" is a pretty traditional tale, at least insofar as the (apocryphal?) part about the sliding panel and the ax.

I have written a melody to this myself and hopefully will be able to get someone to play it for me sometime.

crumpled paper