From the womb of the Crone Before they were born No burdens had they borne Nor a single painful groan. In a creche without satins and silk On the devil's cradle, on the earthen bed They wail for warmth

Along the destiny's thorny shore, Walks a crew hard to core. When tides of fate flow low, They raise the sails from the shipwreck cove. Harsh and coarse is the captain's wail. On the salty waters, the