e c h o 

        Running through the forest

        with my hair

        down in my eyes.

        Bouncing cross

        the deadwood trees,

        watching for the bees.

        Paint my face

        with candy red,

        howl loud as I please.

        Bring those prisoners,

        bring them back,

        bring them back to me.

        Oh,

        what a glorious memory,

        the mountains

        and the lakes

        and the greens

        and you and me.