In ancient times, hundreds of years|before the dawn of history, lived an ancient race of people. The Druids. No one knows who they were or what they were doing. But their legacy remains. Hewn into the living rock of Stonehenge. Stonehenge Where the demons dwell Where the banshees live and they do live well Stonehenge Where a man is a man And the children dance to the pipes of Pan And you, my love Won’t you take my hand We’ll go back in time To that mystic land Where the dewdrops cry And the cats meow I will take you there I will show you how And, oh, how they danced, the little children of Stonehenge, beneath the haunted moon, for fear that daybreak might come too soon.

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