Songcrafters.org

The Masque of the Dead

Something is coming I can sense it in the twilight
like the acrid smoke of burning stubble in the fields
rabbits in the rain and all the filigree of hedgerows
listen with your heart now that everything is still

and i can hear the dead moving their fingers
i can hear the buds bursting on the tree
papier mache faces for the buried and the living
this masque of the dead - come and see

i can see the plague carts heading for the commom
planting their seeds amongst the gorse and the birch
iron-age barrows left exposed by the fire
listen with your heart like this landscape is a church

and i can hear the dead moving their fingers
i can hear the buds bursting on the tree
papier mache faces for the buried and the living
this masque of the dead - come and see