Through the moors of the castle the lord has stepped.
Through the hollow winds his hair does flow.
In his once rich garden the birds had leapt ,
But now the green is dry and slow.
The handsome lord had once walked this valley ,
Maidens had swooned a rose coloured blush.
And for his hand their fathers did rally ,
As he pranced around with that boyish flush.
But now he is back from that blasted battle ,
The scratches and scars the only remains.
War had ruined , rambled and rattled
And raged on the castle and the valley plains.
Through the moors of the castle the lord has stepped .
Through the hollow winds his hair does flow.
And following him the vines have crept ,
In time the garden will mend and grow.
