Just one more time, they sang to me.
Just one more time, I said.
Just one more time, and then we’ll leave;
then you can go to bed
I sang again the tired song,
I know I sang it well,
but just the same it came out wrong;
I knew I broke the spell.
Repeated words had lost their zing;
repeated words had died.
Yet knowing this, I had to sing.
They left and then I cried.
Tale Told 
Very eerie! Wish I knew what it meant. Breaking a spell would seem to be good–seem to defeat those preying on you. Not sure.
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