There was a maiden, young and sweet, Whose parents left her all alone; being year old, she was laid down on a bed of cold, grey stone. How she survived nobody knew for the wood so dark and cold, but growing up she learned the truth and got a heart, as pure as gold.
And every time she ran the meadows and everytime she sang a song, there was this silvery light all around everywhere she came along.
She did not fear the howling wolves, she did not fear the blackest night, they were the family she´d lost so she grew up in nature´s might. The only thing that frightened her was she heard the hunter´s shot, and every time this cruel man came there was a rain of tears and blood.
And time she cried for the fallen and everytime he killed a deer, oh, how she cried her bitter tears, everytime this man was near.
So she did love and she did hate and grew a wise and old; she lived life in a wonderland with so much magic to behold. She knew the wood, she knew the wolves, she knew the deers, they all were one, they played with owls and unicorns, but one day the girl was gone.
And then it rained as if heaven was crying for the lady now was dead; so the beasts carried her to her meadows and in full bloom was her last bed.