12 September 2012
There's a place where cunning folk live... Way out on the marsh land. They wear hag stone jewellery On every finger of every hand. Each born on a chiming hour Ghostly presences they seek, Willo the wisp type ones Wanting to give treasure a peek. There, they live with brownies, Who clean their daily spoils. How I long to be a cunning folk... But i've not got the magic in which to toil.
©Odd
Cunning Folk • Opuss № I