Near th’ gairdens o’ guid an’ evil,
Near th’ open plains of myth an’ legend,
By th’ shadowed glen o’ breath an’ sleep,
Lay th’ footfalls o’ the mystic seek.
Thare be wickedness in th’ wind,
in th’ clouds below th’ glowing lamp,
The Blood King reigns wi’ noisome breath
And jealous wings of feathered starbursts.
beneath the canopy o’ ancient trees
where mortal man may be.
In fragile dwellings thay lay asleep,
by th’ banks o’ th’ deadly rivers,
where th’ muddy flows her dangers
through each an’ every breath,
th’ wee ones noisily at their play
Ne’er see beyon’ their reach.
Thay ne’er see th’ winged luster
take flight inside th’ rainbow arch.
Thay never felt his awsome grip,
These young bairns, known as Anodyne.