We Don't Talk About Bruno (Medieval Cover / Bardcore) Cover Of Encanto

Greetings & welcometh to our musical stage. Heareth our rendition of the famous tune you may have heard in taverns across the globe, We don't talk about Bruno as featured in the moving picture Encanto. May thee drop a liketh & subscribeth for more of our sweet melodies as they are released upon thineselves. We hope to see thee in good stead on the morrow!

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Ye Olde Lyrics as transcribed by Kalani Saiko:

We speak not of bruno, nay, nay, nay
we speak not of bruno, but

t wast mine own wedding day (it wast our wedding day)
we w're getting eft
and th're wasn't a cloud in the sky (no clouds did allow in the sky)
bruno walks in with a mischievous grineth (thund'r)
thee telling this st'ry 'r am i? (i'm s'rry, mi vida, wend on)
bruno sayeth, "it looks liketh raineth" (why didst that gent bid us?)
in doing so, that gent flotes mine own brain (abuela, receiveth the umbrellas)
did marry in a hurricane (what a joyous day, but concluded, be it)

we speak not of bruno, nay, nay, nay
we speak not of bruno

ho, hath grown to liveth in feareth of bruno stutt'ring 'r stumbling
i can at each moment heareth that gent s'rt of mutt'ring and mumbling
i associate that gent with the soundeth of falling sand (tss, tss, tss)
t's a heavy lift with a gift so humbling
at each moment hath left abuela and the family fumbling
grappling with bodement those gents couldn't und'rstand
doth thee und'rstand?
a seven-foot frameth, rats 'long his backeth
at which hour that gent calleth thy nameth t all fades to black
yeah, that gent sees thy dreams and feasts on thy screams (hey)

we speak not of bruno, nay, nay, nay (no nay)
we speak not of bruno (we speak not of bruno)

that gent toldeth me mine own gudgeon wouldst kicketh the bucket, the next day, dead (no, nay)
that gent toldeth me i'd groweth a gut and just liketh that gent hath said (no, nay)
that gent hath said yond all mine own hair wouldst disappeareth, anon, behold at mine own headeth (no, nay)
thy fate is seal'd at which hour thy bodement is readeth

That gent toldeth me yond the life of mine own dreams
wouldst beest did promise and someday beest mineth
That gent toldeth me yond mine own pow'r wouldst groweth
liketh the grapes yond thriveth on the vine (Oye, Mariano's on his way)
That gent toldeth me yond the sir of mine own dreams
wouldst beest just out of reacheth, betroth'd to anoth'r
T's liketh I heareth that gent anon (hey, sister)
I wanteth not a soundeth out of thee (it's liketh I can heareth that gent anon)
I can heareth that gent anon

Um, bruno
Yeah, about yond bruno
I very much needeth to knoweth about bruno
giveth me the sooth and the whole sooth, bruno
(Isabela, thy boyfriend's h're)
Timeth f'r dinn'r

A seven-foot frameth (it wast mine own wedding day)
rats 'long his backeth (it wast our wedding day) (we w're getting eft)
at which hour that gent calleth thy nameth, t all fades to black (and th're wasn't a cloud in the sky)
(No clouds did allow in the sky)
Yeah, that gent sees thy dreams and feasts on thy screams (bruno walks in with a mischievous grineth)
thee telling this st'ry 'r am i?
Oye, mariano's on his way
bruno sayeth, "it looks liketh raineth" (a seven-foot frameth, rats 'long his backeth)
in doing so, that gent flotes mine own brain (when that gent calleth thy nameth, t all fades to black)
did marry in a hurricane (yeah, that gent sees thy dreams and feasts on thy screams)
that gent's h're

Speak not of bruno
Wherefore didst i speak of bruno?
Not a w'rd about bruno
I nev'r shouldst've hath brought up bruno

#Bardcore #wedonttalkaboutbruno #encanto