Bedded in the jagged rocks
Gnawed by the tooth of time
High above the shepherd’s flocks
A ruin sleeps in vines

The river roars, the wind it howls
A sigh of long ago
The sheep they graze, the shepherd growls
The looming chestnuts grow

The halls of men once highly praised
Now drown in bitter rain
And no one’s voice is ever raised
In stirring song again

No footfall on the cracked stairs
The sky is stabbed by boles
A shadow flees – a lonesome hare
The chestnuts swallow whole

The lonely ruins time shall sweep
Where Kings and Lords have passed
Their bodies rotting in the deep
Above them, sheep eat grass.