Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

I was born as the old year died
And I cried, and I cried
For the future
Was born with a caul
Heard the call of the wild
And my prophecies would be the suture

I am the seventh of seven sons
And my father the seventh before me
I heard of my fate, and I sometimes did hate
The burden of knowing their stories

I awoke from dreams that I had
Of Ancient Lands sunk in the sands
Of Kingdom Come and a Will that was done
Atlantis, Lyonesse, and Ys

I met me a girl with a purple mark
On cheek rosy too, and I loved her
Grew up in the village that lay so nearby
And we walked; I was glad that I knew her

My Lady could heal with her gentlest hands
A sparrow that'd fallen or a wound needing bands
The seventh of daughters of the seventh before
Her mother who heeded when she'd heard the call

Rebuilt all those Lost Lands in my mind
Saw Befores and the Afters of mankind
They visited me from and from wide
Plied me with questions
About their lives

First they feared me
Then they loved me
Sought me out
But then

Fickle be fortune, and fickle be fate
And fickle be man's poor opinion or great
Kept our own counsel
And built our own place
Fled to a cabin and made it our space

Grew us a brood with seven small ones
All had The Sight and our Love by the tons
Knew they were safe, and they started a school
To share of their knowledge and magic they knew