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letra de a benediction - karine polwart

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my little one shall sleep
my little one shall sleep
my little one shall sleep

thanks be to those little ones who went before us
whose fingers and toes, little one, lie in the old clay
kingsdoms come and kingdoms go
rivers run and rivers flow

my little one shall sleep
my little one shall sleep
my little one shall sleep

[spoken]
roberta clasps her hands over the swell of her apr-n and stands watching will behind the narrow scullery window
he nuzzles the mare and coaxes her young one into the stable for the night with a low canted murmering the closest he ever gets to singing
any day now the bairn will come

a whitewood in a bed of glass
a blackwood in a bed of moss
a whitewood in a bed of glass
a blackwood in a bed of moss
a whitewood in a bed of glass
a blackwood in a bed of moss

[spoken]
one bitter march evening, will and the mare drag in a fine heavy stump of fallen pine from the copse at the edge of the moore
he sets to it in the barn after supper while roberta sits by the stove humming to herself and conjuring delicate bonnets for the bairn to come
when he’s done filing and smoothing and oiling the wood to a gentle shine. he wraps his handiwork in a old blanket and tiptoes in through the scullery door
“come see it” he whispers to her, and she lays aside her lace for a moment as he sets it at her feet
“here you are.” he says as he whips away the cloth. it’s the bonniest crib that she’s ever seen

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