The harper boy to the Weyr is gone,
In the ranks of wings you'll find him;
His father's straps he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Pern!" cried the rider bard,
"Tho' all the Holds betray thee,
One Weyr, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The harper fell! But the Threadfall's grey
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No Thread shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!