When the night for the passing fairies stood breathless still
The full moon in molten sorrow broke down the hill
His eyes would fill with tears, his lips in anguish twitched
In drunken murmurs of a lost soul in moon’s spell bewitched.
He would be up there on Top Hill silhouetted in moonlight
Sinking in her spilling milk in ecstatic delight
Watching the moon scale upon the meridian’s peak
In the inexplicable awe of a frenzied lunatic.
There wasn’t no full moon without him on Top Hill
Perched on its crest dreaming to have his fill
Sailing in the silvery waves not knowing to anchor
Pledging his eyes to the moon till they couldn’t take anymore.

One night as he climbed up to bathe in the blinding white
The glowing disc was too much to behold, his heart stopped in fright
They found him atop Top Hill, his eyes in wide gaze
In them lay captured, his last moon’s passage.

The coroner opined that his heart failed him
To the taxing trek uphill he fell a victim
But the real cause, they would never get it right
That night having his fill, he died of moonlight.