Colonial Creed of the Lepers

April 24, 2012
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Come you thieves, you sinners

You vagabond drifters

You wagon wheel runners

And quick-drawn gunners

Come ye tired, ye restless

Heal your sulking fleshes

Under the moonlight

In the hearth

Of a warm man's fire

Come you heathens

You whispering demons

With your scientific reasons

Tell of men in wolf's sheepskins

And theories of the latest seasons

Come ye marching men

With bayonet poised at every lurching wren

Tired and weary from the lands you cannot defend

Come to me and be

In the hearth of a warm man's fire

Come ye lost souls

You singing doles

Forget your curious morals

For a morsel

In the hearth of a warm man's fire

Come ye thinking folk

Drink and laugh and take a smoke

Use intellect and be intellectual

And question all that's ever questionable

Come ye friends of the dark

And sing like larks

And oh, listen, hark

The crackling flame

A warm man's flame

Blinding in the dark

Bind me to it

And come ye tired souls

To a warm man's hearth

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