Here he comes, my Elven Lord
Striding through the mist,
Head held high, proud and strong
The Lord of all the Sidhe.
There was a time, not long ago,
When things were not as this,
When Ebon lived beyond the Vale
In cities made for men.
Born a Sidhe in times long past,
His youth was spent in Elven lands,
But then a Portal he did find
And the quest for knowledge pulled him through.
For many years in many lands
To return, in vain he tried.
My Magick means and hidden ways,
He sought to travel home.
Finally, one Hallow's Eve,
When the veil between was thin,
His lonely cry was heard at last,
The Portal brought him home.
Now laughter rings throughout the Vale,
As Ebon tunes his pipes,
Forgotten music heard once more,
The Lord of the Sidhe is home.
Copyright Sue McCaskill - 1990
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