There was a path, there was a path, By the roots and under the branch. A crooked path, a crooked path, The wrongest path you ever had. Oh, the path by the roots, And the roots in the wood, And the hush crept close where the old pines stood. There was a hush, there was a hush, By the path where the night got rough. A patient hush, a patient hush, That made your head feel soft enough. Oh, the hush by the path, And the path by the roots, And the roots in the wood, And the hush crept close where the old pines stood. There was a king, there was a king, Where the branches swayed but did not swing. A waiting king, a waiting king, Who watched so still it chilled the skin. Oh, the king by the hush, And the hush by the path, And the path by the roots, And the roots in the wood, And the hush crept close where the old pines stood. There was a tune, there was a tune, By the king beneath the hollow moon. A low soft tune, a low soft tune, That reached your chest and filled the room. Oh, the tune by the king, And the king by the hush, And the hush by the path, And the path by the roots, And the roots in the wood, And the hush crept close where the old pines stood. There was a child, there was a child, By the tune in the midnight wild. A foolish child, a foolish child, Who heard it once and softly smiled. Oh, the child by the tune, And the tune by the king, And the king by the hush, And the hush by the path, And the path by the roots, And the roots in the wood, And the hush crept close where the old pines stood. There was a breath, there was a breath, By the child that invited death. A little breath, a little breath, That answered back and sealed the rest. Oh, the breath by the child, And the child by the tune, And the tune by the king, And the king by the hush, And the hush by the path, And the path by the roots, And the roots in the wood, And the hush crept close where the old pines stood. If he sings low, if he sings low, Do not match what you think you know. Keep lips shut tight, stay still below, And turn away from where pines grow. Oh, the rule for the road, And the road from the school, And the school from the town, And the town far from the wood, So stay away while you still could, From the king who waits where the old pines stood.
