Beloved Home to Lord Hawke
Perched upon a massive cliff,
Spires reaching to the sky;
Sits a castle formed of stone,
Flags and pennons flying high.
Tapestries adorn the walls.
Torch and candle light the way.
A blazing fire on the hearth
Drives the cold and damp away.
Laughing, crying, shouting, sighing,
Here and there a child calls.
Footsteps walking, footsteps running
Echo down the mighty halls.
Here the noble lord called Hawke
Lays his head and doth reside;
With his faithful friends and family
Never far from by his side.
'Tis not the stone that does surround him,
Nor high, arched ceilings above his head,
That makes this castle feel like home.
But, from their loyalty, instead.
