As she climbs the hills of desireA pigeon swoops down with eyes of fire,To give word to thy maiden of spun gold,The knight of Fenwood’s skin has gone cold.Soon the sweet maiden may cease to amendThe piteous soul she struggles to defend.Beyond the hill top and before the woods,Lie the soul of a man with a heart overflowing with naught but good. The maiden of spun gold and garment of ivory,Will not rest until the frame of the man is upon the vinery.Watching from above, the king commands,That the maiden of his shall not receive thy demands.Swooping down on stallion of ebonyRides the king of the land upon which is called Zealotry.He fumes with his breath and glares with his eyes,At the beautiful maiden he shall claim as his prize.But beyond the hill top and before the woods, Lie the soul of a man with a heart overflowing with naught but good. As the maiden dissolves into frightful tears,The king behind scorns over her piteous fears.“The knight is no longer”, says the king in words as sharp as scissors,But the maiden of spun gold leans forward and whispers,“Take care of thyself my love, I shall be waiting forever more”The king with his army and with his wrathful raised hand,Sent the fair maiden to a place in many a different land.She sat with her tears and her hands in her lap,Waiting for the day that she’d receive her stopgap,For beyond the hill top and before the woods,Lie the soul of a man with a heart overflowing with naught but good. A breath he breathed and the eyes he opened,A soul of the man who’s life was reopened,His feet were under and his head above,He searched through the many lands for the maiden he loved.The king and his army were surprised nonetheless,Of the soul of the man that they had believed was hopeless.As the army swung and fired their arms,The soul of a man defeated their ranks and scoured their farms,For the maiden of spun gold that he loved with all his heart.As the days went on and he felt that he was drifting farther apart,He came upon a cottage with no doors or windows,He broke in with a nearby hammer and there he saw a thin nose.Now inside of a cottage, beyond the hill top and before the woods,Stand the soul of a man and his maiden with hearts overflowing with Naught but good.