Over Hills

   

                   

  Over hills, beyond the fens,

You’ll find the mountain’s foot;

Dark it is, and often cold,

With clouds as black as soot.

We travel, through the deepening mist,

And come we then at last

In evening dark, though stars shine bright,

To base of  mountain high.

No man may enter there alone,

For years it’s been this way,

An evil dwells there, deep inside,

Where bright red fire burns.

Gold there is too, people say,

A hidden dragon-hoard,

More gold lies there than any king

Has won with his brave sword.

As we stand there in the mist,

We gaze at the dark sight

Of mountain high, with gold beneath

Hidden by strange art.

We will not enter there, we know,

For dangers lie within;

The sight of gold can cast a spell 
On you, or me, or them.

Maura Tuffy