Which is the way to the castle?
By the river or through the wold?
How shall I find the master gate
In this winter, shivering cold?
The time, I fear, is running short;
The daylight is growing weak.
Make haste I must if I should hope
To find that strangeling thing I seek.
But how, good sir, I fain thee ask,
Wouldst not thou go the way with me?
Too late, too long, too chill the walk
Without a friend for company.