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.