Somewhere, somewhere under old sky,
In the misty eternal forests
Two little elves were playing with fire
On the tops of moss-grown boulders.

Benighted were their faces
And only flame was flashing on them,
And numerous shadowy graces
Were roaring drunk but stern.

Surrounding boles were bestiring,
Crying by boiling tear,
And ancient shades were groaning
Fulling air by power of fear.

So, two crazy elves were playing with fire -
They wanted the Dead Love be hired...