III

they settled dust in your hair
to watch you shake and shout it out.
with our armaments bared
we shed our bags and travel alls.

from the lee of the wall
he comes in the chang and the chariot
and all his eunuchs in thrall
can scarce lift his line and lariat.

here com loose his hounds
to blow me down.

blow me down.

on this stretch of ground
i'll lay me down.

lay me down.

to sleep.

and now stricken with pangs
that tear at our backs like thistle down
the mirror's soft silver tain
reflects our last and birthing hour

here com loose his hounds
to blow me down.

blow me down.

on this stretch of ground
i'll lay me down.

lay me down.

to sleep.