tremble trees turn and twist
tithe your leaves to breezy mist
grey-shanked clouds roam through the sky
and Harnod Well is frozen dry
heather sway and thatch lie still
this winter's brought a cutting chill
Rosser Dike's beleagured sore
woman, go and latch the door
on nights like this, my da did say
send the travelers on their way
light no lamps and save the bread
for fell things walk abroad, he said.
tarry starry northern wind
bid our sons to make an end
all the chores til morn will keep
and i would have them all asleep
for fell dread walks abroad tonight
it's in my heart not all is right
you heard how Chapman cursed the rood
and faith, the man was of my blood
No comments:
Post a Comment