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I dropped down in the witchwood |
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To see what I could find |
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The trees had taken time out |
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To blow away my mind |
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All that I could hear there |
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Was the sound of my own voice |
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But the music it was making |
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Was nothing of my choice. |
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The interwoven branches |
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Were laden deep with snow |
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A rainbow shone so softly |
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To show which way to go |
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I observed its many colours |
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Till my eyes were rimmed with frost |
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I tried hard to trace my footsteps |
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For I feared I might get lost. |
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The witchwood started singing |
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With a strange unearthly sound |
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My fingers grew like branches |
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I stood rooted to the ground |
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And the spell is still unbroken |
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I am still her bidden slave |
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Till a casket from the witchwood |
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Bears my body to the grave |
