My father was a horsetamer on the edge of Halley Plain.
His work was good and his horses fine, but he got little gain,
For few folk come out of Halley Town; the trade is gone away,
And the distant glower
Of the ruined tower
Makes few folk care to stay.
So poor we were, but free we were, as the wild herds on the plain,
And I was a child
As free and wild
As the wind in my tangled mane.
My grandam told me cradle tales of the great days long ago
when the wizards ruled, and the land was taxed, and the Lords would come and
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