Please trip them gently, they don't like to fall, Oh
Day after day.
They send my friends away
To mansions cold and
Pack a pack horse and rest up here on,
Black Country
I count the corpses on my left, I find I'm
President Joe once had a dream
The world held his hand,
We met upon a hill, the night was cool &
We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and
When all the world was very young
And mountain magic heavy
In the corner of the morning in the past
I would
