Once everyone had arrived at the tea, and the introductions were made, things settled down into an uncomfortable silence. The Dr. commented on my harp, having seen it earlier when he was treating me. I replied that I had trained on if for many long years, as well as pipe and drum. The younger ladies took an intrest and Helen made a comment about my poetry. Before I knew it they had coaxed me into a song. I had to think carefuly about a song that they might enjoy, for my English was still comming up to speed. I settled on something I'd written since coming to stay with my hostess.

Avalon

There is a land beyond the West
Where weary souls find peace and rest
and nowhere on this isle so green
are worn-out faces to be seen

Avalon! I hear you calling,
Avalon, I feel you calling
Me home

This land has not been touched by lies
and all the folk there are of The Wise.
There, walk myth that never weren't
and ancient truths can still be learnt

Avalon! I hear you calling,
Avalon, I feel you calling
Me home

The King of Britons dines with fay
waiting for the long-seen-of day
when Chaos rules and prayers send
The Call for his sword, to defend

Avalon! I hear you calling,
Avalon, I feel you calling
Me home

When at last my sail's turned west
sick and weary, go to my rest
Then evil times no more are seen
In joy, then, I shall serve my King!

Avalon! I hear you calling,
Avalon, I feel you calling
Me home

I lay my hands upon my harp strings to silence them, and I hear not a sound. Then smiles and sounds of appreciation break out all around. The ice broken, the group turns to convivial conversation and consuming Helen's most excellent cooking.