Late at night, when castle doors, close for the night, and strangers linger
Danger traces back the pace, and waits. Then the sergeant starts the fight
all at once the elves set out in flights, and come up in rows
starting from the peak of eve atop a black light pole, then they trace their merry row to well worn precipice
which made them stake and still forgot all weaponry unhinged, all chances of continuing onward, downward after this. They walk in rows of toos and fros they walk in rows of twos and fros.
This is it. They've never met, and yet they can't forget.The white the black.
What resident.The tune the'll soon forget.
I like them.
Well
White and black and red. well white and black and white and black and white and black and red.