Jonathan Low
Last born of the clan first one to be freeLived inside a house, beneath the hangin tree...That chilled him to the boneWords were cried at night in unforgiving tones
Blood of his men was gone beneath snowHe picked up his knife and his bowKiller of Jonathan Low
Violence from without and anger from withinCrawling through the fields informin next of kinThey all turned their backs but they all knew his nameAnd if he could return they'd probably do the same
Blood of his friends was gone beneath snowFor all that I know, he died, killer of Jonathan Low
The blood of his friends was gone beneath snowFor all that I know, he diedKiller of Jonathan Low