You told me once that you would never heal me.
Had you known it was me, you never would have tried.
Wound the eel of the fen, the wolf of the snow-bound trees,
Wound the cattle that you need for winter.
There comes victory, and what comes after?
There follows not a bright new day.
I told you once that I would never heal you.
Had you known this was me, would you have even tried?
One day I will perch upon your shoulder
And all you will have is dignity.