O' is it me and her I see in my dream, feeding on the dancers last leg-
O' is it us that cries for the pain in lost love, or the affair of pleasure hiding in thy mountain's peak-
O' I say let her come to me softly, slowly, and with great fists, fiery and dripping wetness in my wound-
O' fair country side, where the stream flows in opposite direction-
O' where I see thy fish drunkenly waiting for the sea otters-
O' otters of the sea, king of the night, why has thy heart sunken in her eyes, why does the bear not eat her berries-
O' is she tired and long in the way we stand-