A great Lord came walking through the forest

one morning with a weapon in his hand;

Rich was his castle, he lacked for nothing,

but killing was his plan;

When a white bird flew by she fell from the sky,

nothing was found, only blood on the ground, she was gone;



Cursing his fortune,

he turned to the forest to kill once again,

And standing before him was a lovely young woman

with her hand hung in pain,

When he saw her his eyes were filled with desire,

he said "I must have her, she must be mine,

she will be mine..."



He offered her silver, he offered her gold,

but she threw it on the ground,

He fell to his knees and he begged her,

"Oh please come with me,

what you wish will be found;"

she said "Sire I'll go if you put up your bow,

and spare these creatures, leave them in peace,

you have no need..."



But her words were lost in the wind

His eyes were fixed on a queen,

And all he saw was a woman,

And all she was, was a dream...

Oh oh...All he saw was a woman, and all she was,

was a dream...



He took her and bound her with ropes tied around her,

to his castle he did ride;

In a wood was a bower where stood an old tower,

and he threw her deep inside;

then the birds left the sky, and a terrible cry,

brought thunder and lightning and rain falling down,

tears on the ground...



All through the days on her face he would gaze,

for she was lovely as the spring;

no word would she speak but "Leave them in peace",

and some sad lament she would sing...

Oh one day by the door, at the window he saw

a single white feather lying on the floor,

she was there no more...



Now that great Lord is dying,

his cold heart is crying for the love of the girl;

for many and hour he has wept on the Tower

for she meant more than the world;

and once in the sky, a white bird flew by,

he lifted his hands and cried out in pain

"Come back again..."



But his words were lost in the wind,

His castle was built upon sand,

And all he has is a memory,

And all he yearns is her hand...

Ah Ah...All he has is the memory,

And all he yearns is her hand