I once met a girl,
A girl so fair,
With sparkly blue eyes
And light, golden hair.

Her voice was as sweet
As when the southern wind blew,
Bringing north the fresh scent
Of Hibiscuses and Tulips, too.

She met an Elf,
Loric, a fey.
They were both prisoners,
So they ran away

To find the door to Gorhyv Glyn,
The home that Loric missed,
For he had been captured,
To pick out the path, or be beaten by a fist.

To pick out the path
Of the great Rake,
Which we Strongarms row,
Past field and lake.

So away they ran,
As I stated before,
And I miss them so much,
And I hope they find the door.