I came upon a world such as
no eye has seen before-
where legends of the highland live
and Scottish hoard their lore.
Well beneath the boggy ground,
a tunnel runs: Woodlands Sound.
It winds its way round twisted roots
and at its end one finds a newt.
He lives inside the dankest cave,
where mineral drops of water saved,
are stirred up with the newts own blood,
and stored in jars of silvered mud.
The jars are each then carried out,
by special creatures — harabouts.
The harabouts do well to see
that every lavender stalk receives
a drop of newts enchanted blood
before the springtime brings its flood.
And when the women of the land,
go out and harvest herbs by hand,
they tell the tale of Woodlands Sound
by which their healing has been found.
A singe drop of oil
from the fuscia plant in soil,
and for all of those with humble heart,
the newts blood is the end of doubt.
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