Affluent and noble by wedlock, by blood
- widow'd to loneliness still
From gloominess rural is sprung the desire
at yule, for a renaissance thrill
The Jaded Chatelaine's Christmas Delight
Winter-white december night,
frore the birch and fir
At stony cold a courtyard tho'
some and somethings stir
Madam hath her men assembled
urge and want to state
Thro' crust and snow fresh
rumours grow to investigate
Widow Gyldenstierne:
As well as a new suit
to him who will ride
I promise my best mount
if yon he hath spied
To come back and can
tell if at 'Magle Stone'
this eve there is mirth and
much joy as hath been known
Groom:
I take on the challenge,
betake me I shall there
Saddle the steed, mine next when I ride,
soignée, return'd from where...
Those with home in the stone dance merrily
to drums of thunder and a hundred fires
Ogreish in guise and figure, eerie their sight
Moribund yet with immortal magic might
Widow Gyldenstierne:
Ride over mere and meadow
not roads but wood-edges,
thou find their homestead
Riding, Riding
Hillock up, hillock down,
those being small, hiding
know not thou comest
Hunting, Hunting
Clap spurs to thy horse I advise
Arrival at the Magle Stone
Thus he rode thro' the night,
the prize in his sight
- obeying his mistress command
The stone on pillars was raised
when its owners he faced
- obeying his mistress command
Trolls:
We are those with home in the stone,
thou hast tread ground ye know we own
Unless thou comest here to bother
thou hast best feast as all other
Groom:
With good intentions only
do I come to thee
Horn Vessel and Crooked Pipe
-From this our vessel then one tiff or twain
have to the mountain, its king and his reign
May be it crooked, mayhap without note
yet here be a whistle, a tune blow if thou mote
Enter: A Young Girl
Young girl once abduct'd:
I prithee to hesitate,
pray ye haste mon frère
I toast'd not but fled, could I so
Ne'er returning to where...
Those with home in the stone dance merrily
to drums of thunder and a hundred fires
Ogreish in guise and figure, eerie their sight
Moribund yet with immortal magic might
Young girl once abduct'd:
Flee over field and furrow,
not roads but plough-ridges
head'd for homestead
Riding, Riding
Furrow up, furrow down,
these be to small runnig
None the less they're coming
Hunting, Hunting
Clap spurs to thy horse I advise
Escape from the Magle-stone
Thus he rode back that morn,
with pipe and crooked horn
- he stole on his mistress account
Back home the drawbridge was raised
thwarting owners that chased
- whom stole on his mistress account
Trolls:
We are those with home in the stone,
give us back that ye stole, we own
Lest one loss shalt trade another,
give us back and we shan't bother
Widow Gyldenstierne:
Nothing have we here for thee
so go to hell!
Trollmarch and Curse
Ssshhhh!!!
By the moore and moon
- cautious, askance
cast at sombre silhouettes a glance
Robb'd of treasures, dignity and glee
marching home pondering their decree
May that artifacts shan't be return'd,
mankind's lesson's never to be learn'd
Yet before the moon hath risen thrice
retaliation will have been doled out twice
and right from wrong discern'd
Deeds Done and Deserts Deserved
Hence pass'd forty hours
'fore pass'd his horse away
Well dress'd our groom fared well in his suit
for the rest of his one more day