The Saints

Where have all the saints gone?

Clad in white robes and helms,

Driving along the white horses,

Manes as pale as snow.

Where have all the saints gone?

Who once walked the streets so filled,

Who tossed a coin to the weeping man,

Who never had a fortune to hold.

Where have all the saints gone?

Bold as a Lion before her cubs,

Noble as the Saint that he is,

Wise as the man up on the mountain,

A man so great as gold.

Where is the Saint?  Where has he gone?

Run off perhaps to some far off land,

Abandoned us perhaps, to live and die,

Hiding perhaps in a grain bin or garbage store,

Locked away in a dungeon so far away,

Or was he ever here?