A mournful sound across a ruin,
Deep and low as ancient drums,
Echoing soft beneath the moon,
As if a dragon�s purr it thrums.
It calls up dreams of ancient days,
The bright banquets and light dances,
Ancient customs, forgotten ways,
Kings dark conquests, broken lances.
How did this great castle fall,
To such decay and destruction?
Naught but the sorrowful call,
To declare this great reduction.
Gradually throughout hard times,
This great castle fell to ruin,
Covered with green ivy and vines,
Naught to recall but mournful tune.