A butcher, yes that was my trade. But the King's shilling is now my fee. A butcher I may as well have stayed. For the slaughter that I see. . And the preacher in his pulpit.
There she sits her hands are held. Tight around her glass. She only needs to be alone. She knows this mood will pass. To realize that she was strong. And he too weak to stay.
Do you remember summer days. Just after summer rain. When all the air was damp and warm. In the green of country lanes?. And the breeze would touch your hair.