Red, ruby red, is the hair on her head
What a marvellous thing to be alive, she said
Wrapped up in the blankets on her bed
 
Urged by her blessing, I lifted my leg
Feeling free to deposit a golden egg
Rest assured, we’ll never have to beg
 
Then a branch breaks through her window
Feathers fly, the icey wind blows
 
Suddenly a car stops, she crouches on the floor
Footsteps on the gravel leading to her door
Sound moves like a bullet to her core
 
Run or you’ll be trapped and taken prisoner by those men
I can’t survive the act of losing you again
Take this lock of hair and flee, my friend
 
I burst through her broken window
Bleeding while the icey winds blow
 
Red, ruby red, is the hair on her head
And I search for her still though I know she’s dead
Here they cut her, here she fell and bled
 
Under my wing is the remnant of her hair
Such a frivolous thing made incredibly rare
I treasure it with sadness, love and care
 
No thing stirs outside her window
No tree grows, no icey winds blow