The Edges of Mirkwood

In the land of Mirkwood I still roam

Upon its edges I still stroll

The winds from the east, the west, and the south

I walk the edges to the North

The borders as fenced going high above

The sharpness of the façade, it treasured its flame

The grassy shrubs, the grassy herbs, and the rosewood trees

They walked like Ents across the border

Queer lads they seemed to be

They lived in the deep, inside the Mirkwood walls

Treasuring its flame from the wind that blows

They stayed to shelter its rising flame

In the land of Mirkwood I still roam

I walk the edges, upon the hills

Far away from the queer lad

I stroll with the winds to meet the Ents