vagantes
02-22-2012, 11:47 AM
Here is a King, riding fast from the East:
Fear him, fear him for the harm in his breast.
He comes with bright fire blazing at his back;
The pain in himself is worse than the rack.
Fair children play on a soft Southern shore,
Around them, on zephyr wings, white seabirds soar,
While the King looks down from steep cliffs above;
His heart is riven by soft nails of love.
The fading Western light flickers and dies
As a Queen, forlorn, grieves sadly and sighs;
Haggard she staring stands with chalk-white face,
Lost are her children in this desolate place.
In a Northern town the innocent were killed.
In holes they lie. On them wet earth was filled.
The King and Yellow-hair turn away and smile.
With lust and hate sweet desire becomes vile.
Remember the deaths on Saddleworth Moor.
Curse Brady the madman and Hindley his whore.
Fear him, fear him for the harm in his breast.
He comes with bright fire blazing at his back;
The pain in himself is worse than the rack.
Fair children play on a soft Southern shore,
Around them, on zephyr wings, white seabirds soar,
While the King looks down from steep cliffs above;
His heart is riven by soft nails of love.
The fading Western light flickers and dies
As a Queen, forlorn, grieves sadly and sighs;
Haggard she staring stands with chalk-white face,
Lost are her children in this desolate place.
In a Northern town the innocent were killed.
In holes they lie. On them wet earth was filled.
The King and Yellow-hair turn away and smile.
With lust and hate sweet desire becomes vile.
Remember the deaths on Saddleworth Moor.
Curse Brady the madman and Hindley his whore.