A verse of winter

The fall of blood covered flags reveal,

armies of frozen Gentry that come.

They rise and fall like the year’s wheel,

With winter as the final outcome.


Mighty fairy king and queen arise,

To bring fear to mortals’ eye.

The very seasons are their prize,

For those who will never die.


So come forth great beautiful ones,

Tirnog and the under plane.

But please spare our daughters and sons.

Instead just take our grain.


On this we say and shall pray,

“Seasons come and go,

But let them not end our days.

Life will continue to flow. “


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