Classic Poem

Three times round the Kielder Stone
Widdershins I walked alone —
And his little son was born
Lifeless on the morrow's morn.

Three times round the Kielder Stone
Widdershins I walked alone —
And his gipsy bride fell dead
Rising from her bearing-bed.

Three times round the Kielder Stone
Widdershins I walked alone —
And he wanders night and day
Witless over bent and brae.

Round and round the Kielder Stone
With the sun I walk alone:
But God never made the sun
Can undo what I have done.