Ancient Lyre — The Wanderer by Cordelia Hanford Foster

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Listen well to these words and learn the end of your wanderings.
— Prometheus (Aeschylus’ "Prometheus Bound")

Ancient Greeks often spoke of the wandering poet: storytellers compelled to move and seek so that their legend may reach far and wide, shaping future generations. “The Wanderer” sings of the calling and the burden of the wandering bard. It honors the human legacy of oral storytelling and wonders whether those to come will dare to learn the lessons of our forebears.
In this video, singer/songwriter Cordelia Hanford Foster performs her original folk song live on a 7-string ancient Greek lyre, masterfully handcrafted in Greece by the LUTHIEROS family. The filming took place during the Lyre Summer Camp 2024 at Aegina Island, Greece.

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🔵 Learn how to play the lyre and other ancient musical instruments at
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🎬 SEIKILO Filming Crew
A Music Film by Nikolaos Koumartzis, D.Phil.
Assistant Director by Yiannis Karakatsianis
Music Production by Evagoras Bekiaris

The Wanderer © Cordelia Hanford Foster 2023

🎙️ Who is Cordelia Hanford Foster?
Cordelia Hanford Foster is a singer/songwriter, actor, and fine artist from New York City.
She is currently developing her debut alt/folk album of original music on which the ancient lyre will be featured!
🌱 Find more of her work at https://cordeliahanfordfoster.com/

🎶 Original lyrics

I can tell when it’s been raining
I can taste it on the air
Well inspired held in check
and with that freedom wrang its neck
every heavenly body wept
and you just stared

The woods are old enough
The hills indeed have eyes
And we roam these bodied places
completely compromised

And no it won’t be long now
We’re forced to frame the door
Faults and foils, deluge, drought
Tunneled hints and banked accounts
Toes are wet, bodies locked out
What’s at the core?

The woods are old enough
The hills indeed have eyes
And we roam these bodied places
completely compromised

The wanderer as witness
airs wonders, bears our lore
What happens once we happen more
with everything we’ve seen before
we figure we’ll never know what we don’t look for

The woods are old enough
The hills indeed have eyes
And we roam these bodied places
completely compromised

The woods are old enough
The hills indeed have eyes
Still we roam these bodied places
completely calm

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