I walk along a distant shore,
Seeking solace upon yon moor,
Where long ago bards penned their craft,
As Damsal's swooned and peasants laughed
From music of the poet's quill,
As sweet as song of whippoorwhill.
O' how I yearn from in my breast
To summon forth at my behest,
Odes of passion, a bard's refrain,
So that your love, shall e'er remain.
But I am not on distant shore,
Nor am I bard from days of yore,
But yet I know of what I seek
So of my love to you I speak.