Apocalyptic Organ Grinder - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 13
XIII.
My father went a’sweepin’across the fields of goldwith rifle by his side,tall and brave and bold.My father went a’sweepin’across the savage land,never glancing backat my small and waving hand.My father went a’sweepin’while I stayed behind,watching through my windowwondering what he’d find.My father went a’sweepin’among the trees and fern,My father went a’sweepin’Never to return.—The Ballad of The Sweeper, Traditional Settler folk song“Life is not a clear and easy path, but is beset with brambles, thorns, and obstacles. Only through honor, strength, and wisdom may we hope to see the clearing beyond.”
—Spewer Proverb