“There’s an old, old legend, that’s whispered by Southern folks,
About the lacy Spanish moss that garlands the great oaks–
A lovely princess and her love, upon their wedding day,
Were struck down by a savage foe amidst a bitter fray;
United in death they were buried, so the legends go–
‘Neath an oak’s strong, friendly arms, protected from their foe;
There, as was the custom, they cut the bride’s long hair with love,
And hung its shining blackness on the spreading oak above;
Untouched, undisturbed, it hung there, for all the world to see
And with the years the locks turned grey, and spread from tree to tree.”
OH das ist ja toll, wo hast du das her?
Wirst verfolgt, ich mag deinen Blog. LG Cloudy
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