Old Crow
OLD crow, why are you croaking so?
I do not know.
Why do you ruffle your snood and bite your toe?
I do not know.
Are you so mortified, so deep in woe?
Do you regret to see your children grow?
What is your sorrow’s fons et origo?
I do not know.
I do not know.
Why do you ruffle your snood and bite your toe?
I do not know.
Are you so mortified, so deep in woe?
Do you regret to see your children grow?
What is your sorrow’s fons et origo?
I do not know.
Old crow, have you an aching maw?
I can but caw.
Are you bewailing some terrible thing you saw?
I can but caw.
Do you regret that you never studied law?
Have you got rheumatism in your jaw?
Do you hear voices crying “Darby M’Graw”?
I can but caw.
I can but caw.
Are you bewailing some terrible thing you saw?
I can but caw.
Do you regret that you never studied law?
Have you got rheumatism in your jaw?
Do you hear voices crying “Darby M’Graw”?
I can but caw.
Old crow, what are those robes you wear?
Too old to care.
Ragged they are, the color of despair.
Too old to care.
Why, crow, do you go on sitting there,
Perched in discomfort on your fence-post chair,
Why do you not soar into the windy air?/
Too old to care.
Too old to care.
Ragged they are, the color of despair.
Too old to care.
Why, crow, do you go on sitting there,
Perched in discomfort on your fence-post chair,
Why do you not soar into the windy air?/
Too old to care.
Old crow, I must leave you to your woe.
Your road I know.
I must away, my home awaits below.
Your road I know.
I go alone, for there the red fire’s glow
Greets me with warm companionship. And O!
I wish to see you never more, old crow.
Your road I know.
Your road I know.
I must away, my home awaits below.
Your road I know.
I go alone, for there the red fire’s glow
Greets me with warm companionship. And O!
I wish to see you never more, old crow.
Your road I know.
R. P. LISTER