In old south down, where the mourn mountains sweep,
There's a bridge made of wood where the willow trolls meet,
It's on midsummers eve when the sun takes a bow,
And bids bye, and farewell to the willow tree bough.
Talk of the evenings events and the mood there about,
And the damage that was caused by those lager louts,
Father willow troll talks of the courtships that passed,
Between boy trolls and lady trolls, and whether it'll last.
The baby trolls settle as the darkness descends,
And the moon shows her face to the willow troll friends,
Merry music is made from the willow tree strings,
And the food is supplied by the south down night things.
Horrid worldly events are a lifetime away,
As the humans excist by the exposure of day,
Two worlds so close, but nature keeps separate,
Never mixing together, its chosen by fate.
Pay attention and watch now, as my tales have begun,
Of a day seeking willow troll and his son.....
