We went to a house on the edge of a moor
It was a hill top dale
And the gales that swore
It was an empty shell
Where the wind whistled and tore
And I thought from what hell
Had come the last war
The belongings pell-mell
Helter skeltered and scattered
Up the stairway along landing
And into the hall
We made our farewells thinking how this
House core
Once was a dwelling to a family of four
A scare crow stood watching as we were driving away
He was the last soft thing that I had seen that day
But his eyes they were dead and his heart made of hay
Never beat for the lost things that he had witnessed that day
Oh how can we see them? Our enemies of clay
When each shifting season
Covers their tracks runaway
I wish to have left them at least for the pay
Mutineed the bounty, but I found paradise in my way
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