Magician’s Wives Words and music by Peter S. Beagle © 1986Magicians go in scarlet, damson and verdigris, Their hoods and cloaks and smiles a-snap with wizardry. Magicians' wives wear brown and they're very hard to see. Magicians' wives, magicians' wives. Magicians weave great circles where demons are confined Buzzing like horseflies, helpless in the meshwork of the mind. Magicians' wives clean up the mess the demons left behind. Magicians' wives, magicians' wives. Bridge: Sweet are the ladies of the Sidhe, Dryads are kind, or seem to be. The wisest are the women of the water. Witches have useful things to teach-- The hidden names and the secret speech-- But magicians always marry gardeners' daughters. Magicians study colors and learn the names of elves And lie in smelly towers where grimoires line the shelves. Magicians' wives bear children and watch them hurt themselves. Magicians' wives, magicians' wives. Magicians know what time is, and know its antidote, They read the past in snake-skin, the future in a mote. Magicians' wives wash crucibles and buy another goat. Magicians' wives, magicians' wives. Bridge: On certain nights without a name Magicians gather at a flame To speak of string and stones and stars and weather. They draw strange pictures on the floor, Trade palindromes and rhymes of lore, And things you do with marigold, rue, and heather. The wives sit in the kitchen, replenishing the beer. They fold and sew and giggle, and call each other dear. And now and then they make somebody's husband disappear. Magicians' wives, magicians' wives.