The Golden Salamander

The bird had silver wings, my friends,

And reached out for the sky;

It found its wings were broken,

It had lost the right to fly.

The pink-eyed salamander

Changed its colours for the day;

It changed from white to purest gold

And left the stag at bay.

Now I am but a p;oor man

In the apple blossom state,

I choose to fly where'er I please,

The stag must needs a mate.

My golden salamander,

You must take me as I am.

I cannot change my colours,

I am but a simple man.

The golden salamander

Had become the rite of spring;

The silver bird made promises

That scarcely meant a thing;

They told the wicked huntsman

Where the stag had run to rest.

Now the elderly survivor

Knew this was not for the best;

He opened up his heart

And prayed for peace for all mankind.

He asked a fortune teller

But found out that she was blind.

The clouds were passing over,

There was little sign of rain;

The sun was slowly rising

From its slumberdown again.

The stag had run to cover

In a copse beside the lake;

The huntsman broke the silence

And the birds began to wake.

The fortune teller smiled

As the survivor spoke of fate.

He thanked her for her interest

But knew it was too late.