The sun sets down behind the trees
The old and ancient druid trees,
The water from the fountain slows
The water slows and then it stops.

I see my breath upon the cold,
A cold as bitter as she was bold:
She stayed far longer than she should
And lived far more than any would.

Lays of the Moon. Lays of the Sun:
Here's an old woman laid low.
Lays of the Sun. Lays of the Moon:
Drifts of the wind-silvered snow.

The girl sat down before our trees,
The old trees with the growing leaves:
She poured the water of her soul;
The water pours and never stops.

Our children work and make and say:
"We grow great and happy today;"
Our children's children are mine and hers,
But few compared to the vast Out There's.

Lays of the Moon. Lays of the Sun:
Here's an old woman laid low.
Lays of the Sun. Lays of the Moon:
Drifts of the wind-silvered snow.

The stars of the North wheel above,
Constant and timeless as my love:
The turning stars, ever slow,
The light from the stars never stops.

Our Humans went to the wand'ring stars:
The land of black and golden flares,
And left me here to harp and play
And dance my hooves to the coming day.

Lays of the Moon. Lays of the Sun:
Here's an old woman laid low.
Lays of the Sun. Lays of the Moon:
Drifts of the wind-silvered snow.

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