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She came to me one morning |
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One lonely Sunday morning |
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Her long hair flowing |
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In the midwinter wind |
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I know not how she found me |
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For in darkness I was walking |
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And destruction lay around me |
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From a fight I could not win |
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She asked me name my foe then |
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I said the need within some men |
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To fight and kill their brothers |
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Without thought of love or God |
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And I begged her give me horses |
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To trample down my enemies |
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So eager was my passion |
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To devour this waste of life |
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But she wouldn't think of battle that |
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Reduces men to animals |
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So easy to begin |
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And yet impossible to end |
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For she's the mother of all men |
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Who counselled me so wisely then |
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I feared to walk alone again |
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And asked if she would stay |
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Oh, lady, lend your hand outright |
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And let me rest here at your side |
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"Have faith and trust in peace," she said |
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And filled my heart with life |
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There's no strength in numbers |
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Have no such misconception |
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But when you need me |
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Be assured, I won't be far away |
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Thus, having spoke, she turned away |
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And though I found no words to say |
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I stood and watched until I saw |
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Her black coat disappear |
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My labour is no easier |
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But now I know I'm not alone |
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I'll find new heart each time |
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I think upon that windy day |
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And if one day she comes to you, |
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Drink deeply from her words so wise |
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Take courage from her as your prize |
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And say hello from me |
