The wind was blowing strong
The cards were on the table
She had a face so long
I thought a horse was in the stable
But then her voice spoke
And it bolted out the door
And I don't want to hear
Her ringing words no more
Oh I feel a poem coming on
Don't you listen to the slap
The steer pikes are following
Their wraps
The blood that I have given though never was it given
Oh I feel a poem coming on
I'm gonna take my axe
And cut down the stiles
It is an unfortunate
Tax but it has been gone for a while
And though the people flax
And though the keys
