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Collins-Pappalardi |
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The two island swans, mated for life |
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and his faithful heart would not consider any other wife. |
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For three years' peaceful joy 'midst the rushes of the pond. |
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Proud and gentle was the loving of the last two island swans. |
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And their love was like a circle, no beginning and no end |
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with his lady by his side, a treasure and a best friend. |
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And the pond was all so peaceful in the rising of the sun |
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young and free as the island breeze, their life had just begun. |
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On a dread day in November when the seering cold did start |
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stalked the hunter with his bow and put an arrow in her heart. |
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Husband, come to my side - let your feathers warm my pain |
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for I fear I shall not share another day with you again. |
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And the cold winds blow. |
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He was brave but he's laid low |
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by her body in the island mist. |
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I saw him give her one last cold kiss ... one last cold kiss. |
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Now of swans the people talk of only one in this day's tide. |
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Though they brought him twenty ladies, he would take no other bride. |
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And they say he will not come from the spot where she did fall. |
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Once so proud, he's beaten now, and he will not speak at all. |
