Beyond the pines and yonder hills, where horses there do neigh.

Down in the mines of Calaran, where good men toil all day.

Ask not the question late at night, when silence fills the bay.

Ne’er will I know the answer dear; its thread, I fear, is frayed.

They journey far into the dark, and trace the moon’s soft flight.

O’er streams they skip, o’er fallen trees, and on the moss alight.

As fear of death within them quakes, they pray with all their might.

“Away from home,” a voice calls out, “to see a wondrous sight.”

Treacherous slimy swampy things, with eyes as red as rust.

Without their parents’ arms stretched wide, to guard them ’gainst the gust.

Between the devil and the night, exists a sacred trust.

Dear child held within our hearts, we fear the world’s unjust.

And none can stop our little ones, from going where they go.

Across the land they venture forth, with friends or on their own.

The secret journey of the young, is known by them alone.

And search they will along the stitch, in which their fate is sewn.

For soon the sun will lift its brow, and illumine the wild.

For soon the sun will best its foe, the darkness so reviled.

Our dearest sun will guide the way, back home where all is mild.

For soon the fiery sun awakes, and vicious night’s beguiled.

Fly homeward bound from where you’ve fled, and gentle care do take.

For should you lose your way tonight, His heart is sure to break.

He who has more strength than all, and makes the Heavens shake.

Move swiftly now along the path, to home o’er frosted lake.