Oncce in a blyth green wood lived a hermit wise and good, whom the folks from near and far, for his counsel sought knowing well that he sought ...
The very longest lane has a turning it is plain, e'en the blackest clouds will fly, and what can't be cured must with patience be endured, as cheaply as we laugh or cry....
Still he sits I wean mid branches ever green and cheerily goes on to say, "though to care we are born yet the dullest morn often heeralds in the fairest day" repeat.