[ He nods and leans against her. He does not have his harp, but he does not need it. Soft and sad he sings the dirge that lamented the passing of Light and the death of the King, the death of his grandfather. ]
Ochone, ochone, the King is dead The Light is passed into Shadow Where now is the Morning? Ochone, ochone, my grandfather is dead The joy is gone from my heart And only tears remain
no subject
Ochone, ochone, the King is dead
The Light is passed into Shadow
Where now is the Morning?
Ochone, ochone, my grandfather is dead
The joy is gone from my heart
And only tears remain