There's a wrinkle in the water   Where we laid our first daughter   And I think the wind blows sweetly there.   Over there.      And the windows and the cinders   And the willows in the timbers.   The infernal rattling of the rain   Still remains.      "But I..." said the bachelor to the bride,   "...Am not waiting for tonight.   No, I, I will box your ears and leave you here stripped bare."      Hear the corncrakes and the deerhooves   And the sleet rain on the slate roof   A medallion locked inside her hands   In her hands      And his fingers, are they telling   Of the barren of her belly?   Do his calluses cure her furrowed brow?   Even now?      "But I..." said the bachelor to the bride,   "...Am not waiting for tonight.   No, I, I will box your ears and leave you here stripped bare."      Stripped bare... stripped bare... stripped bare....      But I..." said the bachelor to the bride,   "...Am not waiting for tonight.   No, I, I will box your ears and take your tears and leave you,   leave you here,   stripped bare."