By the gate an ancient warrior Fast asleep on sentry duty Furrowed by the wind and weather And the forest grows around him. Hair and beard are clumped and frozen Turned to stone his ancient armour There he's stood for twenty decades In monastic isolation. Now we paint a different picture Here's the castle from a distance Birds are nesting in the ramparts And there's music from the valley. On the Rhine a boat is passing On it there's a wedding party Sunlit guests are gaily dancing And the lovely bride is weeping.
