Cockburn Bruce 71 High Winds White Sky Let Us Go Laughing (5:21) My canoe lies on the water evening holds the bones of day the sun like gold dust slips away One by one antique stars herald the arrival of their pale protectress moon Ragged branches vibrate strummed by winds from o'er the hill singing tales of ancient days Far and silent lightning stirs the cauldron of the sky i turn my bow towards the shore * * * As we grow out of stones on and on and on so we'll all go to bones on and on for many a year but let us go laughing -- o let us go And may the holy hermit's staff on and on and on guide you to the shortest path on and on for many a year and let us go laughing -- o let us go let us go laughing -- o let us go (toronto -- july, 1969) |
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