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An old Devonshire ballad.

Of all the things luxurious and green,
It is well-known, the orchid is the Queen,
It is an extraordinary flower,
It has the power

To send brave men to wander and to roam
To seek the orchid and to bring it home,
To find the very rarest and the best -
Such is their quest.

But orchids of the best and rarest kind
Are perilously dangerous to find,
The wildest moor, the darkest deepest mire
Hides your desire!

Come, tread where not a man has walked before,
Across the swampy woods and lonely moor,
Wade through the mire and show me that you dare,
And I'll be there!

They called you mad but you have conquered all,
And in the mire you stand so proud and tall,
You waited for so long to grasp my stem,
But here I am.

The orchid you set out to find, you found,
With one false step your feet have lost the ground,
Brave man, you came to carry me away,
But you will stay.

Your soul is gone, your body cold and dead,
The waters dark and still above your head,
And in your hands the orchid of the moor