Page 19 of I Ran Away to Evil 2

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The hunting trail, country road, highway and track.

I climb the cliff faces,

My world ever standing

On earthen-made floor from the countryside back.

I sleep under starlight

In breath-catching heather

Or sometimes I rest in the deep forest nooks

The burrows and bracken

In rain or cloud weather

The fallen leaf tresses a roof in my crook.

My wandering ways lead

To clearings of hallow

The hill is my country, the road is my home.

The forests and woodlands,

The green pasture fallow,

I find ever peace when the further I roam.

I am the rough weather,

A soft trodden route,

The trail to the backlands, the marchland, the glade

I am the cool water,

The crickling spout

That travels the lost ways through undergrowth shade.

Someday you may meet me

In the gold field of grain

Across the cold deserts or shoreline by night

On sloping wild hill lands

The rooted old by lane

That know the forgotten and carry the right.

And when our paths crossing,

Our eyes meet and catching,

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