The man got away,
Oh, we delayed? to our dismay
We got out of the carriage,
So ready to round him up out of rage.
But what a surprise! He sped like,
The tails of a flying kite.
Down we went into the dungeon,
So far, we knew only darkness and the murmur of the wind.
Deeper, deeper, deeper,
We plunged into the fog of our foolishness.
Seconds ticked, minutes flew, hours passed,
The beat of our frightened hearts leading the way
Out leaps our man,
With a host of his kind
Ready to strike with precision,
This time just right for our polishing
A war is at hand,
Soldiers with wit as weapons
In a weather so, so frightening,
The striking of knife against knife like thunder
He got on his silver horse and disappeared,
Ending a battle of 2000 years
In the beginning he was called Golec,
He is now the whir of the wind.