The two island swans, mated for life
and his faithful heart would not consider any other wife.
For three years' peaceful joy 'midst the rushes of the pond.
Proud and gentle was the loving of the last two island swans.
And their love was like a circle, no beginning and no end
with his lady by his side, a treasure and a best friend.
And the pond was all so peaceful in the rising of the sun
young and free as the island breeze, their life had just begun.
On a dread day in November when the seering cold did start
stalked the hunter with his bow and put an arrow in her heart.
Husband, come to my side - let your feathers warm my pain
for I fear I shall not share another day with you again.
And the cold winds blow.
He was brave but he's laid low
by her body in the island mist.
I saw him give her one last cold kiss ... one last cold kiss.
Now of swans the people talk of only one in this day's tide.
Though they brought him twenty ladies, he would take no other bride.
And they say he will not come from the spot where she did fall.
Once so proud, he's beaten now, and he will not speak at all.
