With Home in the Stone

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