A wanderer, one autumn morn
Came riding by a field of thorns
As mist around him rose and fell
With voices, soft as silver bells
“Come dance with us! Come dance”, they sang
And tied him with their silver bands
“Come dance with us! Come dance”, they said
“Within our circle now you must stay”
“Oh maidens fair, I cannot stay
Oh keep your bands, for I must away
I cannot stay with you”, he cried
“I must away to meet my bride”
Around around the circle warped
Seven times and then seven more
Around around the circle ran
Twenty-one cycles of the moon
And twenty-one cycles of the sun
A wanderer, one autumn morn
Came riding by a field of thorns
Alas, but as he walked away
His hair had all but turned to grey
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