19 October 2012
Her windswept hair lies, quite haughtily, Stood hand in hand, with daughter They ran away, quite naughtily, That evil man, he fought her.
Now in the forest floors they walk, Near ponds of lilies white, From algae reeds to bulrush stalk, They give the child a fright,
She begs her mother, stay away, Perhaps come back tomorrow? For night ponds are diff'rent to day They're full of dread and sorrow
The mother walks, pulling her child, To the water's clearing, And with a slip, looks like she tripped, The screams and shouts she's hearing
Pond Daughter • Opuss № I