A Sad Tale's Best For Winter. I

Good God, The Souls Of All My Tribe Defend From Jealousy!

Make Me A Willow Cabin At Your Gate, And Call Upon My Soul Within The House; Write Loyal Cantons Of Contemned Love And Sing Them Loud Even In The Dead Of Night.

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

My Will Enkindled By Mine Eyes And Ears, Two Traded Pilots 'twixt The Dangerous Shores Of Will And Judgment.

Some Are Born Great, Others Achieve Greatness.