The Stone Worker

I'm humble, alone
An old cutter of stone
The maker, the shaper
The smith of the home
No magician am I
For once I did thrive
But now I can barely survive

My love went away
By boat and by train
To somewhere by someone
With prosperous trade

In the woods of old pen
There's work to be done
They'll mention for the landworker's sons
Where they threw away the knife or the gun
The brick for the feather
They cut a friend's throat and then run
They're fighting the rise of the sun
They left me poor and alone and won

So years did pass by
How I did survive
With faith that my friends would come back to my side
But I gathered a lot
The craft wasn't forgotten
We stand and our fruits won't go rotten
We didn't throw away the knife or the gun
The brick for the feather

Didn't cut a friend's throat and then run
They're fighting the rise of the sun
They left me poor and alone and won

So one day back they came
Brought little but shame
Their children in arms
And their bodies in pain
They shivered in the cold
I saw from my stone home
And they knocked till tears rained on the snow

They cried, worker of stone
That we left long ago
We're sorry we migrated to join the rows
But now we've returned
Yes, now we've come home
There's no place that we'd rather go

I humble my home
An old cutter of stone
The maker, the shaper
The smith of the home

A magician am I
For I did survive
For I never became civilized
I didn't throw away the knife or the gun
The brick for the feather
Didn't cut a friend's throat and then run
They were off to fight the rise of the sun
They came back poor and alone and won