There was a maiden, young and sweet,
Whose parents left her all alone;
being one year old, she was laid
down on a bed of cold, grey stone.
How she survived nobody knew
for the wood was so dark and cold,
but growing up she learned the truth
and got a heart, as pure as gold.
And every time she ran through the meadows
and everytime she sang a song,
there was this silvery light all around her
everywhere she came along.
She did not fear the howling wolves,
she did not fear the blackest night,
they were the family she'd lost
so she grew up in nature's might.
The only thing that frightened her
was when she heard the hunter's shot,
and every time this cruel man came
there was a rain of tears and blood.
And every time she cried for the fallen
and everytime he killed a deer,
oh, how she cried her hot, bitter tears,
everytime this man was near.
So she did love and she did hate
and grew a woman, wise and old;
she lived life in a wonderland
with so much magic to behold.
She knew the wood, she knew the wolves,
she knew the deers, they all were one,
they played with owls and unicorns,
but then one day the girl was gone.
And then it rained as if heaven was crying
for the wood´s lady now was dead;
so the beasts carried her to her meadows
and in full bloom was her last bed.