When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain,
And the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain
In the shadow of the forest, through she may be all and one
They would stare unbelieving at the Last Unicorn
When the first breath of winter through their flowers it’s icing
And you look to the north and the pale moon is rising.
And it seems like all is dying, and would leave the world to more,
In the distance hear the laughter of the Last Unicorn.