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The Northern Lass

I’ll tell you all of a Northern lass
Here hearken to my words, Oh,
With a voice like wind and clear as glass,
She’d charm the hearts of all she’d pass.
Still bright as gold and bold as brass,
And men sought her hand to win.

She caught the eye of a Southron man
Here hearken to my words, Oh,
He had troves of jewels and miles of land.
It all meant naught but wind and sand.
He swore that day to have her hand.
But she had no love for him.

So he sent his men to force her will
Here hearken to my words, Oh,
And they stole her from her Northern hills.
They swore they’d keep her south until
Her loud denials she would still,
But the lass would not give in.

Then the noble saw her mind was set
Here hearken to my words, Oh,
She would not succumb to force or threat
The noble said he’d have her yet
So in a dungeon she was set.
There, alone from friends and kin.

She prayed all night to the silver moon
Here hearken to my words, Oh,
And she sang a low and mournful tune.
The noble then went to her room
And found naught but a silver loon
But no maiden left therein.

On a winter’s night, you’ll hear the cry
Here hearken to my words, Oh,
Of a northern song far in the sky
A nobleman will softly sigh.
O’erhead a silver loon will fly,
For a heart’s no captive thing.