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Wovenhand



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Wovenhand

Last First

What are you about?
Say something secret in an old order hush
Trouble and suffering in a lovely rhythm
A homespun clapboard, black strap thrush

Devoted loyal, undertake the toil
Beware of what comes natural
Undertake the spoil
In a fist

It was cruel and it came all too natural
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As a younger child
A headstrong folklore, straw rifle crutch
Thresh a crop defile

Devoted loyal, undertake the toil
Beware of what come natural
In a fist full of sand
It came natural in a fist full of land