Bewitched

O none may share the sorrow, And none may break the spell, For I ha' crost the weird water An' drunk o' Weeping Well. And I ha' plukt the bitter fruit Of Elfinland forlorn, An' spoke wi' the wan woman Beneath the twisted thorn. An' I ha' bought dark wisdom For the heart within me sold, An' I ha' gi'en my livin' soul For a mint o' fairy gold. The stream runs on i' the old way, The birds sing on the trees, An' the sun shines on the hill side, But I know nought of these. There is no man dare speak wi' me, No home where I may dwell, For I ha' crost the weird water An' drunk o' Weepin' Well.