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ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL song lyrics
by Joel Sattler, revised by offthewall

based on the poem by John Keats,
based on a story by Boccaccio

Fair Isabella loved a lad wrong for her
Her brothers' vassal, a common labourer
Lorenzo had a love so pure
Such burning heat could scarce endure
Each day their love it grew more sure
A malady with no cure

The brothers thought he's nothing more than a slave
Barely deserving of the place that they gave
They conspired, they would take his life
She would never be his wife

They led him to the wood and laid him down
Told Isabella he could not be found
Taken a ship for foreign lands
To wander alone on distant sands
Thinking they were free, ‘twas not to be
They had joined the damned

The brothers thought he's nothing more than a slave
Barely deserving of the place that they gave
They conspired, then they took his life
She would never be his wife

Lorenzo came to Isabella in a dream
Said in the forest I am buried by a stream
Said come and find me where I'm dead
Don't be afraid that's what he said
She found the body and there she took his head
Placed it in a pot instead

The brothers thought he's nothing more than a slave
Barely deserving of the place that they gave
They conspired, and then took his life
She would never be his wife

She filled the pot with basil at the top
Watered it with tears, would leave it not
The brothers watched her as she pined
Stole the vase only to find
The sight within, it horrified
Triumph within them, it died.

The brothers thought he's nothing more than a slave
Barely deserving of the place that they gave
They conspired, and then took his life
She would never be his wife

Grieving Isabella, sad on vast estate
No love, no family, all to do was wait
Wait for the hour of her death
The last long drawing of her breath

The moment that her life at last would end
To be with her Lorenzo once again....
They conspired, but they took her life
She will never be his wife.

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