The Curse

Long ago in days of yore

There was a town found way up north

There was a coldness in the air

For all the people who lived there

Were being held prisoner

By a wizard with white hair

High up in his mountain cave

The wizard looks down on his slaves

The wizard wrings his hands and laughs

While the peasants talk about their pasts

Until someone asks "When did this come that we do so fear the sun?"

Your heart, it will grow cold

When the white wizard takes his hold

With fire in hand the peasants climb

To reclaim all their lost time

In his cave he's left to burn

And once again the seasons turn

No longer cursed by the wizard's hand

The peasants now enjoy their land