Verse 1

Fortress north

Cold as glass

Friendship south

Take your task

To the number

Nine eight two

Through the wood

No lion fears

In the sky the water veers

Small of scale

Step across

Perspective should not be lost

In the center of four alike

Small, split,

Three winged and slight

What we take to be

Our strongest tower of delight

Falls gently

In December night

Looking back from treasure ground

There’s the spout!

A whistle sounds.