Once there was a lass, a sprightly little thing
a maiden who ran free and bowed before no king.
With reaching arms and blown back hair
she laughed and jumped and flew
her faced turned up, her eyes alight
and brightened all she knew.
He was a man, a strong, tall gent
who saw the lass one day
he found he was quite taken
from her he wouldn't stray.
She felt his gaze upon her, as heavy as a brick
she turned her head and saw him and suddenly felt sick.
His longing glances bound
they shackled her like chains
she realised the meaning
the reasons for her pains.
He was trying to cage her, and after her he ran
he followed her, and with his eyes her image he did scan.
She fled from him, he ran onward
she quickened up her pace
she looked behind her but she
couldn't bear to see his face.
The girl felt hunted as she ran
So faster, faster she went
he would not let her rest and this
was heavy fuel for her resent.
The maid runs still, away from him
She doesn't ever slow.
She laughs no more, she jumps no more
Instead she's screaming, "Let Me GO!"
