In ancient times,
hundreds of years|before the dawn of history,
lived an ancient race of people.
The Druids.
No one knows who they were
or what they were doing.
But their legacy remains.
Hewn into the living rock
of Stonehenge.
Stonehenge
Where the demons dwell
Where the banshees live
and they do live well
Stonehenge
Where a man is a man
And the children dance
to the pipes of Pan
And you, my love
Won’t you take my hand
We’ll go back in time
To that mystic land
Where the dewdrops cry
And the cats meow
I will take you there
I will show you how
And, oh, how they danced,
the little children of Stonehenge,
beneath the haunted moon,
for fear that daybreak
might come too soon.
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