There's a wrinkle in the water
|
where we laid our first daughter
|
And I think the wind blows so sweetly there
|
Over there
|
And the windows and the cinders
|
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 will box your ears
|
and leave you here stripped bare."
|
|
Hear the corncrakes and the deerhooves
|
And the sleet rain on the slate roof
|
A medallion locked inside her hand
|
in her hand
|
And his fingers are they telling
|
of the barren of her belly
|
And his callouses cure her furrowed brow
|
even now
|
|
"But I," said the bachelor to the bride
|
"am not waiting for tonight.
|
No, I will box your ears
|
and leave you here stripped bare."
|
|
"But I," said the bachelor to the bride
|
"am not waiting for tonight.
|
No, I will box your ears
|
and take your tears
|
and leave you, leave you here
|
stripped bare."
|
|
-----------------
|
The Bachelor And The Bride
|
| The Decemberists |
