| The painted face of evening
|
| shrouds the sleeping day
|
| And voices in the twilight
|
| murmur low
|
| The trees that lean toward the sky
|
| shake their weathered bones
|
| And timeless magic lingers here
|
| among the ring of stones
|
| Like circles on the water
|
| beneath the rising moon
|
| The churchbell tolls the fading notes
|
| of time
|
| A fallen king of long ago
|
| sleeps the years alone
|
| And a night wind hums a requiem
|
| among the ring of stones
|
| And on a stairway to Valhallah
|
| its steps of burning gold
|
| With a servant of a lifetime at his side
|
| with a dagger and a coat of steel
|
| to see him on his way,
|
| on his way
|
| Diana sails her sea of cloud
|
| above her silver bowl
|
| The spirits of the darkness
|
| fill the air
|
| And me I’m just a travelling boy
|
| many miles from home
|
| And they say the Devil walks the road
|
| beneath the ring of stones |