The Master Is a Drunkard

Who is this that stands before me
With a candle at its end?
There's a fire in the wheat field
And a storm around the bend
The strangers are all prowling
Round the great harvests of hay
So gather all your family
And send them all away

Unto your youngest daughter
Hide her smile, hide her curls
For the master is a drunkard
And he'll sell her off for pearls

Hide her from the vile workpiece
Cover her ears from the screaming world
For the master is a drunkard
And he'll sell her, and he'll sell her
And he'll sell her off for pearls

Who goes before the tyrant
Wielding innocence like fools?
You'll need a thousand armies
And a tale to tell the truth
Tell them harsh oppression
And the will to thrive again
How your master is a bastard
How his days are seasoned

And when they start to falter
Bring their hearts and fire to fight
And I will not weep their sorrow
For you didn't save a life

On the final day of lashing
You won the wardship of their souls
Captured, blackened by your order
Set free in the wintry
Set free in the winter
Set free in the wintry cold

Say your master is a bastard
And you cannot stand his guilt
If your master is a bastard
Take a knife up to his throat

There's no peace with soldier's honor
When she overcharges those
There's no comfort in a dark house
No harmony in torpid moans
Work, rest, pay, to die
Your bones are rickety hinges
Your back, a rusty tin
So you shambled to your bedside
But found your wife in bed with him

If your master is a drunkard
Don't bring him wine or corn
If your master is a drunkard

Escape to freedom, escape to freedom
Escape to freedom while he snores!
Snores! Snores! Ha ha ha!
Escape to freedom while he snores!