Fair are my tresses, long and golden,
curling like the untamed sea;
Rosier lips hath no young maiden,
as those can be found on me.

Away from home I certainly ran,
straight-away off to the Weyr;
For my father had chosen a man,
I knew I could not hold dear.

On the sands I met my one true love,
but my joy was soon stillborn;
Voices, from bodies unseen above,
laughter, ridicule and scorn.

My doom was set, 'tis a chilly harsh truth,
when I, Mari Impressed golden Sueth.