The Riddle

Near a tree by a river there's a hole In the ground Where an old man of iron Goes around and around And his mind is a Beacon in the veil of the night For a Strange kind of fashion there's a wrong and a Right But he'll never, never fight over you Near a tree by a river there's a hole In the ground Where an old man of iron Goes around and around his mind is a beacon In the veil of the night For a strange Kind of fashion there's wrong and a right But He'll never, never fight over you Near a tree by a river there's a hole In the ground Where an old man of iron Goes around and around And his mind is a Beacon in the veil of the night For a Strange kind of fashion there's a wrong and a Right