Ridgely Torrence
Blackbird, blackbird in the cage,There’s something wrong tonight.Far off the sheriff’s footfall dies,The minutes crawl like last year’s fliesBetween the bars, and like an ageThe hours are long tonight.The sky is like a heavy lidOut here beyond the door tonight.What’s that? A mutter down the street.What’s that? The sound of yells and feet.For what you didn’t do or didYou’ll pay the score tonight.No use to reek with reddened sweat,No use to whimper and to sweat.They’ve got the rope; they’ve got the guns,They’ve got the courage and the guns;And that’s the reason why tonightNo use to ask them any more.They’ll fire the answer through the door—You’re out to die tonight.There where the lonely cross-road lies,There is no place to make replies;But silence, inch by inch, is there,And the right limb for a lynch is there;And a lean daw waits for both your eyes,Blackbird.Perhaps you’ll meet again some place.Look for the mask upon the face:That’s the way you’ll know them there—A white mask to hide the face.And you can halt and show them thereThe things that they are deaf to now,And they can tell you what they meant—To wash the blood with blood. But howIf you are innocent?Blackbird singer, blackbird mute,They choked the seed you might have found.Out of a thorny field you go—For you it may be better so—And leave the sowers of the groundTo eat the harvest of the fruit,Blackbird.
Blackbird, blackbird in the cage,There’s something wrong tonight.Far off the sheriff’s footfall dies,The minutes crawl like last year’s fliesBetween the bars, and like an ageThe hours are long tonight.The sky is like a heavy lidOut here beyond the door tonight.What’s that? A mutter down the street.What’s that? The sound of yells and feet.For what you didn’t do or didYou’ll pay the score tonight.No use to reek with reddened sweat,No use to whimper and to sweat.They’ve got the rope; they’ve got the guns,They’ve got the courage and the guns;And that’s the reason why tonightNo use to ask them any more.They’ll fire the answer through the door—You’re out to die tonight.There where the lonely cross-road lies,There is no place to make replies;But silence, inch by inch, is there,And the right limb for a lynch is there;And a lean daw waits for both your eyes,Blackbird.Perhaps you’ll meet again some place.Look for the mask upon the face:That’s the way you’ll know them there—A white mask to hide the face.And you can halt and show them thereThe things that they are deaf to now,And they can tell you what they meant—To wash the blood with blood. But howIf you are innocent?Blackbird singer, blackbird mute,They choked the seed you might have found.Out of a thorny field you go—For you it may be better so—And leave the sowers of the groundTo eat the harvest of the fruit,Blackbird.
Blackbird, blackbird in the cage,There’s something wrong tonight.Far off the sheriff’s footfall dies,The minutes crawl like last year’s fliesBetween the bars, and like an ageThe hours are long tonight.
Blackbird, blackbird in the cage,
There’s something wrong tonight.
Far off the sheriff’s footfall dies,
The minutes crawl like last year’s flies
Between the bars, and like an age
The hours are long tonight.
The sky is like a heavy lidOut here beyond the door tonight.What’s that? A mutter down the street.What’s that? The sound of yells and feet.For what you didn’t do or didYou’ll pay the score tonight.
The sky is like a heavy lid
Out here beyond the door tonight.
What’s that? A mutter down the street.
What’s that? The sound of yells and feet.
For what you didn’t do or did
You’ll pay the score tonight.
No use to reek with reddened sweat,No use to whimper and to sweat.They’ve got the rope; they’ve got the guns,They’ve got the courage and the guns;And that’s the reason why tonightNo use to ask them any more.They’ll fire the answer through the door—You’re out to die tonight.
No use to reek with reddened sweat,
No use to whimper and to sweat.
They’ve got the rope; they’ve got the guns,
They’ve got the courage and the guns;
And that’s the reason why tonight
No use to ask them any more.
They’ll fire the answer through the door—
You’re out to die tonight.
There where the lonely cross-road lies,There is no place to make replies;But silence, inch by inch, is there,And the right limb for a lynch is there;And a lean daw waits for both your eyes,Blackbird.
There where the lonely cross-road lies,
There is no place to make replies;
But silence, inch by inch, is there,
And the right limb for a lynch is there;
And a lean daw waits for both your eyes,
Blackbird.
Perhaps you’ll meet again some place.Look for the mask upon the face:That’s the way you’ll know them there—
Perhaps you’ll meet again some place.
Look for the mask upon the face:
That’s the way you’ll know them there—
A white mask to hide the face.And you can halt and show them thereThe things that they are deaf to now,And they can tell you what they meant—To wash the blood with blood. But howIf you are innocent?
A white mask to hide the face.
And you can halt and show them there
The things that they are deaf to now,
And they can tell you what they meant—
To wash the blood with blood. But how
If you are innocent?
Blackbird singer, blackbird mute,They choked the seed you might have found.Out of a thorny field you go—For you it may be better so—And leave the sowers of the groundTo eat the harvest of the fruit,Blackbird.
Blackbird singer, blackbird mute,
They choked the seed you might have found.
Out of a thorny field you go—
For you it may be better so—
And leave the sowers of the ground
To eat the harvest of the fruit,
Blackbird.
Southern Ohio Market Town
Southern Ohio Market Town
Southern Ohio Market Town
I heard an old farm-wife,Selling some barley,Mingle her life with lifeAnd the name “Charley.”Saying: “The crop’s all in,We’re about through now;Long nights will soon begin,We’re just us two now.“Twelve bushel at sixty cents,It’s all I carried—He sickened making fence;He was to be married—“It feels like frost was near—His hair was curly.The spring was late that year,But the harvest early.”
I heard an old farm-wife,Selling some barley,Mingle her life with lifeAnd the name “Charley.”Saying: “The crop’s all in,We’re about through now;Long nights will soon begin,We’re just us two now.“Twelve bushel at sixty cents,It’s all I carried—He sickened making fence;He was to be married—“It feels like frost was near—His hair was curly.The spring was late that year,But the harvest early.”
I heard an old farm-wife,Selling some barley,Mingle her life with lifeAnd the name “Charley.”
I heard an old farm-wife,
Selling some barley,
Mingle her life with life
And the name “Charley.”
Saying: “The crop’s all in,We’re about through now;Long nights will soon begin,We’re just us two now.
Saying: “The crop’s all in,
We’re about through now;
Long nights will soon begin,
We’re just us two now.
“Twelve bushel at sixty cents,It’s all I carried—He sickened making fence;He was to be married—
“Twelve bushel at sixty cents,
It’s all I carried—
He sickened making fence;
He was to be married—
“It feels like frost was near—His hair was curly.The spring was late that year,But the harvest early.”
“It feels like frost was near—
His hair was curly.
The spring was late that year,
But the harvest early.”