I.

In the deeps, below, below,
Far beneath the well-trod floor,
There no man shall go, shall go
Who hath not the secret lore.

I am man, Unspeakable; I walk in secrets, silence kept.
I stand alone, and sneaking, sly, I set my sights on mysteries
That wiser men have wished forgot; where they have walked, woman wept
And father howled and brother hated. Horror, yes, but deeply hid,
A shadowed web discovered slowly, creeping whilst the spiders slept.

II.

On Hoy it was I had my home and hued my natal cry;
I gadded o'er its golden glens and green and grassy hillsides,
And passed many a pleasant hour under its pearly sky -
I fancied all its secrets mine, its shadowed nooks explored,
But Granda’s cottage held much more than ever met the eye.

O’er the deeps below, below
Stands a strong and stalwart house.
Wild winds do blow, do blow
With salty spray the cliffs to douse.

Whispers wormed like winter wind through the house’s cracks,
Spilling through its dusty spaces, soaring to its spire.
Its mysteries were manifold, with marvels - massive tracts -
In stories spoke full stealthily, with sharp and searching eyes:
Of ferlies found by faceless men, fantastic facets cut from facts.

In the deeps below, below,
Hidden ‘neath their smiling eyes,
Granda sought to show, to show
Where secret knowledge lies.

III.

When I began I wanted bracing breaths of buried air;
I came to them a callow man, a captivated convert.
Delving deeper, I discovered dreadful deeds done there;
Under shroud of circumspection, oh, what sins are sanctioned.
I met with monstrous measures there, more the more I bared.

In the deeps below, below
Farther still descended,
I would come to know, to know
Why Granda’s life was ended.

The floorboards of that labyrinth with bitter blood are soaked.
Strange spells were tested there, Squibs and sinners dragged
Into deep dungeons where their magic was dissected and revoked,
and given unto hopeful gulls who longed to be full-magicked.
Thirty twisted, tattered souls - ‘twas for them that Granda spoke.

O’er the deeps below, below
Gather clouds with thunder filled;
Direful winds shall blow, shall blow,
Keening for the man they killed.