Stranger, stranger, slow your step!
Have you so soon forgot
The silver that from well to thee
My ragged hands have brought?

A moment, sir, you promised me
That moment must you stay.
For I've a tale to pour to you
Before you go your way.

Read here the lines writ in my face,
These words spotting my hand:
I've torn my life from bare, cold rock
I've built my house from sand.

One joy, sir, one, is all I have
One comfort given me
One sweet, sweet boy with gleaming laugh
Who once leapt, laughed, roamed free.

They keep him in a cage now, sir
A cage in Dunstan town
They say he's fought and killed one there,
But he's my son, my own!

When the moon again sets full
They'll hang him from a tree
They'll hang my heart by his golden hair
And shut his golden ee.

I'd give my eyes for one last look,
My bones for one last kiss
But old bones canna fetch much gold;
It's for dead, hard gold they wish.

How much is one life worth to me,
When all I have is one?
How much a thousand gold to thee
For th' purchase of my son?

Give back my dear to me -
O stranger, do not flee!




Penned by my hand on the 12th of Daedalan, in the year 430 AF.