a simple ballad

By GreenDaleIV

High o'er the hills, far o'er the seas,
Fly with the small birds, follow the breeze,
Go with your heart, where would you roam,
back the the rose colored stones you call home.

Run past the rocks, fly fast the mountains,
Live off a sack, drink from the fountains,
go with the wind, fly with the birds,
be as free as you can, as you run with the hurds.

Be not afraid, be a warrior now,
When you have come back, take a big bow,
But hurry back, I have a feast on the table,
When you tell them your stories, they'd have think it's a fable,
You know the truth, and you were able,
to come back home, we missed you here.

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