Underneath the boughs
of the great birch tree,
sank the sallow woman
down to her knees.

From such a stance
I took a glance
upon that withered ghoul.
I spotted all kinds of things:
kings on strings and golden rings;
but thus, they took their toll.

She lived her life
with some strife, 'but as a whole,' she extolled
'I am simply a happy old soul.'

And so I strolled,
and strolled some more,
with nothing to my name.

Except the shoes upon my feet
and the stories from that ole' dame.