Held in slumbre
By erthe and root he is bound
Restinge under
A wreath of firs all around
Dawnliht breaking
The sunne has risen anewe
Birdsong wakinge
To stand with all of his theow

Heave and ho
How his fete are rooted in ston
Heigh and lohe
Go the stepes that rattle his bones
Man and dere
Twinkle in a blynk of his eye
Winteres wend
And a good kyngesrip goes awry