You will billow and dance
In the wind as we please
For we are the spirits
Of the trees

You will spin round and round
On the ground
For we are the spirits
Of the sound

You stand so still
Finding your will
For we are the spirits
Of winter’s chill

You will do as we wish
For we have your fate
Woven in threads
At hell’s gate

There is no where to run
Hold your ground
Blow the horn
The old magic sound

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