Forgotten and concealed
Are the tales of old.
Yet the spirits of the field
I do behold.
mist-like shape reveals
The fiddler in his prime,
It's an act through the time.

Under the starlit sky
 [bad word] alive.
Chapters of laughter and a sigh,
They do revive.
The mist-like shape entwines
The legend and the lore
Into a conviction unsure.