Down on the moor
In a little thatch home
They had barely any food
The land was dry as a bone
But high on the hill
Lived the king of the moor
He was fat and round
And only gold and silver he wore
The king didn't care
For the golden haired child
He hated his kindness
He was meek and he was mild
But down on the edge
Of the golden heather moor
The skylarks would gather
To help the child do his chore
They helped him gather berries
For the little old man
Placing the scarlet spheres
straight into his porcelain hands
Quickly and carefully
he carried them home
to the little thatch house
In the land dry as a bone
The years went by
And the king's avarice grew with ease
But the little old man
Was taken to his grave by disease
The child was now a man
In the moor living all alone
But the skylarks still looked after him
In the land dry as a bone
The time had now come
For a new king to rule the land
"This drought just has to end",
Said the people of the land
They consulted their priests
Who asked the spirits of the air
And they all said the same
The next king had golden hair
So they struck down the wicked king
And gave him to the birds of the air
The skylarks carried off his body
They tore him to pieces in the air
The people gave the kingdom
To a man who once was poor
The golden haired child
Who brought peace and justice
to the moor
Finally at long last
The drought came to an end
Nature withdrew her wrath
The people lived happily ever after
The End.