Last Fist
Woven Hand
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What are you about
Say something secret
In an old order hush
Trouble and suffering in a lovely rhythm
A homespun clapboard blackstrap thrush
Devoted loyal
Undertake the toil
Beware of what come natural
Undertake the spoil
In a fist
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It was cruel
And it came all too natural
As a younger child
A headstrong folklore strawrifle crutch
Thresh a crop defiles
In a fist full of sand
It came natural in a fist
Full of land