The men travel down

a long and windin’ path

until they have reach’d

the toiling work their god wreaked wrath

Hack away at th’bricks

they do build high into tow’rs

churches, dwellings

und’r their king they cow’r

He stands facing outer

the entrance to his masterpiece open

the guests enthralled

say they “O, to go inside we’re hoping'”

Royal palace town

royalty atop the peak

serfs th’ way down the hill

vassals lying to not be weak

Bluest sky, fair clouds

o’er the fine village

Bring the grains and corn

until ther’s spillage