Post by Brian on Jul 20, 2018 18:04:31 GMT -6
Very deep in the old western forest,
Along what some call a magical path,
Is where ye start out to find the way,
What his lordship forbade with wrath,
His daughter 'tis said followed that way,
Long back when of it little was known,
She was but a wee lass of eight then,
By now she's surely a lady full grown,
They say the master let her wander a bit,
For the woodland seemed tame enough,
Each man with 'em swears she screamed,
To her aid they ran through roots and rough,
One by one they called out her name loudly,
More desperately with each passing turn,
The master fall back upon an old worn stump,
Shedding bitter tears that did heatedly burn,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
Should you find yourself in their lands,
Heed the warnings and best ye beware,
Next day the master roared them all awake,
Ere the eastern sky gave any hint of light,
Back into those cursed woodlands to seek,
His little girl who had vanished from sight,
This time though he found the path once more,
Foreboding hung in the air warding off entry,
None could pass along it's well worn ways,
Be they humble servent, holy priest or gentry,
Wild cry his lordship gave upon blowin' wind,
For no prayer nor spell nor most fervent wish,
Nor any amount of force by weapon or hand,
Could make headway either by cut or by swish,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
Ye cannot pass their boders by force,
No matter what is ye offer in prayer,
Yet always he would pray each 'n' every night,
Followed by one more excursion to cursed place,
Never a hint of his finding she whom he had lost,
As years passed by he showed a care worn face,
Ten years coming up empty finally took it's toll,
One day he rose not as expected ere the dawn,
They found his defeated spirit laying still in bed,
In his final surrender he had become withdrawn,
No one could get him to move from his sheets,
Upon the ceiling he would stare, sometimes cry,
Or mutter curses at those had stolen his treasure,
Greatest loss for which he prepared now to die,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
Ye cannot win fighting their powers
No matter how you curse and swear,
How long he lay there none ever could say,
Eyes grew dim as finally strength began to fail,
A man once so powerful in body and will,
Now all shattered, shivered, looking so frail,
His eyes did open wide ere he went to his peace,
Pointed boney finger at window opposite his bed,
I believe not in ghosts my friends but I swear,
We all saw her image there at least it was her head,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
What oft remains unseen,
May nonetheless be there,
Golden crown she wore with great beauty that shone,
Transparent wings she bore with tips below each ear,
A look of peace came to the master's face at last,
Wherever he went, he left behind his horror 'n' fear,
In the land where the faeries live,
There be magic everywhere,
When you find yourself among 'em,
You'll have no worry nor care.
Brian Paul Sullivan © 2007
Along what some call a magical path,
Is where ye start out to find the way,
What his lordship forbade with wrath,
His daughter 'tis said followed that way,
Long back when of it little was known,
She was but a wee lass of eight then,
By now she's surely a lady full grown,
They say the master let her wander a bit,
For the woodland seemed tame enough,
Each man with 'em swears she screamed,
To her aid they ran through roots and rough,
One by one they called out her name loudly,
More desperately with each passing turn,
The master fall back upon an old worn stump,
Shedding bitter tears that did heatedly burn,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
Should you find yourself in their lands,
Heed the warnings and best ye beware,
Next day the master roared them all awake,
Ere the eastern sky gave any hint of light,
Back into those cursed woodlands to seek,
His little girl who had vanished from sight,
This time though he found the path once more,
Foreboding hung in the air warding off entry,
None could pass along it's well worn ways,
Be they humble servent, holy priest or gentry,
Wild cry his lordship gave upon blowin' wind,
For no prayer nor spell nor most fervent wish,
Nor any amount of force by weapon or hand,
Could make headway either by cut or by swish,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
Ye cannot pass their boders by force,
No matter what is ye offer in prayer,
Yet always he would pray each 'n' every night,
Followed by one more excursion to cursed place,
Never a hint of his finding she whom he had lost,
As years passed by he showed a care worn face,
Ten years coming up empty finally took it's toll,
One day he rose not as expected ere the dawn,
They found his defeated spirit laying still in bed,
In his final surrender he had become withdrawn,
No one could get him to move from his sheets,
Upon the ceiling he would stare, sometimes cry,
Or mutter curses at those had stolen his treasure,
Greatest loss for which he prepared now to die,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
Ye cannot win fighting their powers
No matter how you curse and swear,
How long he lay there none ever could say,
Eyes grew dim as finally strength began to fail,
A man once so powerful in body and will,
Now all shattered, shivered, looking so frail,
His eyes did open wide ere he went to his peace,
Pointed boney finger at window opposite his bed,
I believe not in ghosts my friends but I swear,
We all saw her image there at least it was her head,
In the land where the faeries live,
For sure there be magic everywhere,
What oft remains unseen,
May nonetheless be there,
Golden crown she wore with great beauty that shone,
Transparent wings she bore with tips below each ear,
A look of peace came to the master's face at last,
Wherever he went, he left behind his horror 'n' fear,
In the land where the faeries live,
There be magic everywhere,
When you find yourself among 'em,
You'll have no worry nor care.
Brian Paul Sullivan © 2007
