A youth had fallen in the wood.
Three bulls stood near, surveying.
His form was grand, was true, was dead.
Above, the sun, was singing.

A youth had fallen in the wood.
The bulls exchanged wise glances.
They watched his lifeless form as sure
some sanctuary their souls comprised.

Nearby were fires and storms and screams.
Some shots rang out, and shattered dreams.
A youth had fallen in the wood.
The bulls did not depart.

In later times, long afterwards.
When all right cause was long forgotten.
Some souls were heard to witness this:
Three spirit bulls, attending where

A youth had fallen in the wood.