Down in the valley I take my leave
I bid farewell to the only place I've lived
A golden blanket of fallen leaves
Clears my mind of all the things I did
A loaf of bread, my trusted steed
A woven saddle mother made for me
Of troubled times
Weeks gone by; rations have run dry
A groaning in the bottom of my
Belly cries out for
Something which I have no more
In my famished time
I spot a lamplight
Stumble upon a path
Of friendly folk at last