Song Of The Forlorn Son

Wretched is my lot here, mirthless is my fate

Alone to face the cruel winters, endure the dreary cold

What is there to hope for, what is there to seek

For this forsaken child, for this forlorn son



Whose sins am I now atoning for?

Whose lapses am I forced to undo?



So echoes my tune through these darkling shaws

Above the frozen streams resounds my song

Only these sullen trees will hearken to me

Only snow-bound hills ever hear my call



What is there to hope for, what is there to seek

For this forsaken child, for this forlorn son

For this embittered man, for this grim castaway



Solace I find in the light of the pale moon

My comfort in the night the murmur of the trees

Now I set forth without ever glancing back

It is time to make my own way through the dusk