The old country

They say in the old country
that lighthouses are for keepers;
better make your own way.
They say eyes are like knives piercing your heart;
better stay low and move fast.

They say in the old country
that hopes are like lovers;
better check your promises.
They say dreams are fragile
and fall from heads like autumn leaves;
better watch your step.

They say shelter is for beggars;
better nail your secrets to the wall.

Copper kettle

I realized that, if the Poetic Lineages I post here are mine in some poetically ancestral sense, I have to include things like this folk song:

Get you a copper kettle
Get you a copper coil
Cover with new made corn mash
And never more you’ll toil

Chorus:
You just lay there by the juniper
While the moon is bright
Watch them jugs a-fillin’
In the pale moonlight

Build your fires of hickory
Hickory or ash or oak
Don’t use no green or rotten wood
They’ll catch you by the smoke

(Chorus)

My daddy he made whiskey
My granddaddy did too
We ain’t paid no whiskey tax
Since Seventeen Ninety Two

(Chorus)