Henry Jamison
bright and future
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Sensible, she said
With a hand upon my head
When we wheeled over the field
Under the sky
When I was 19, she was 21
We were high, low, high, low, high, low, high
We were high, low, high, low, high
Now the leper kneels and prays
For bright and future, airy days
As bandages have all decayed
The sun is beating down
And from the forest flies a bird
A cardinal that's overheard and
Understood the leper's words
And become his shocking crown
Is all the kind of things she'd say to me
While crying on my shoulder
And I am trying to console her
But we're high, low, high, low, high, low, high
When you're high, you're low
When you're high