|
There's a wrinkle in the water |
|
Where we laid our first daughter |
|
And I think the wind blows so sweetly there |
|
Over there |
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And the windows and the cinders |
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And the willows in the timbers |
|
The infernal rattling of the rain |
|
Still remains |
|
"But I," said the bachelor to the bride, |
|
"Am not waiting for tonight |
|
No,I, I will box your ears |
|
And leave you here stripped bare" |
|
stripped bare |
|
Hear the corncrakes, and the deer hooves |
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And the sleet rain on the slate roof |
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A medallion locked inside her hands |
|
In her hands |
|
And his fingers, are they telling |
|
Of the barren of her belly? |
|
Do his calluses cure her furrowed brow? |
|
Even now? |
|
"But I," said the bachelor to the bride, |
|
"Am not waiting for tonight |
|
No,I, I will box your ears |
|
And leave you here stripped bare" |
|
stripped bare |
|
stripped bare |
|
stripped bare |
|
"But I," said the bachelor to the bride, |
|
"Am not waiting for tonight |
|
No,I, I will box your ears |
|
And take your tears |
|
And leave you, leave you here stripped bare" |
