Yon Two Crows

Pennies from heavenDon't make me laughHere all you'll getIs the pattering rainOr yon two crows up over the hillLooking for winterkillAlways at your bootsThe mud behind the byreWith its clammy holdWould mock you up a graveHere in the mire of a wrecked sheepfold

And all you'll bring to thisIs muscle and gritPersistence, that's just about itWhat made you thinkThere'd be a living in sheep?Eat, work, eat, work and sleep

Duck under the eavesOf the bothyTo sit here, caged by rainSomewhere to go conjureA next moveWhen I have to think againThe dog lifts his gaze to pleadBelieves the wizard has a magic stickLeans his weight into my tweedI give an unholy hand to lick

I take a swig of sheep dipFrom my flaskAnd once again I askWhat made you thinkThere'd be a living in sheep?Eat, work, eat, work and sleep

They were at this gameTwo hundred years agoHad thirty waysOf dying young, poor soulsLaid to rest in their soggy rowsRain on their holy booksBlood and whiskyOn the tongueAnd no-one watching over anyoneNo-one left but your stubborn oneAnd the crows and rooks

Ah, the dying youngWell I'm not doneYou watch me and I'll watch theeI can still work for two menAnd drink for three

And I raise my flaskTo the clearing skiesTo you, sweepersYou carrion spiesTo scavenge and surviveIf you can do it so can I