all we may do is wait

 

once past the trees more houses dimly lurk
there is some fresh thing we just have to know
apart from all the fears and joys of work

we have to find our way through the dim murk
there's not one light here not even a false glow
once past the trees more houses dimly lurk

we do not face our woes instead we shirk
all duties and there's nothing we might show
apart from all the fears and joys of work

we gain our best desires by gun or dirk
that's better than the constant to and fro
once past the trees more houses dimly lurk

we are too calm to ever go berserk
as soon as we arrive we have to go
apart from all the fears and joys of work

we have to understand each tiny quirk
of meaning and the steady ebb and flow
once past the trees more houses dimly lurk
apart from all the fears and joys of work

rambunctious youth

 

a word or two and we have got the plot
our task is then to carry out each plan
before some villain might impose a ban
and we will know just what prize we have got
our duty is good fortune to allot
while others might inveigle or trepan
the hopes and dreams of every working man
in short we're here to circumvent the rot
a line of waiting folk before the bar
once all the gates are open they can go
to places where the word is not a tease
we start so soon because we travel far
arriving on the edge of stormy blow
restoring there the joy and all the ease

a lack of glory

men want to journey past the forest wall
beyond the fence is quite another field
we pass into it bearing sword and shield
determined that the enemy shall fall
no villain foeman gallops when we call
we're limited by all the tools we wield
sometimes the way of courage is to yield
the winner is the one who's on the ball
what bore our weight did so with undue mirth
our fear and pain drove us to be most rash
and now regret is all that we can feel
we rue the total of our little worth
discover that we have far less than cash
and no court's left to which we might appeal

no little detail

 

our proper way is barred by a strange folk
their eyes are wild and voices are not calm
we take their angry wailings for a psalm

they stop our progress with a single stroke
we thought that we would once more bear the palm
our proper way is barred by a strange folk

we have no choice but bend beneath the yoke
to take what's caustic for a soothing balm
in face of terror not to show alarm
our proper way is barred by a strange folk

alternative theory

 

the ones who will step off on the true beat
may be more lucky than the ones whose way
brings them good fortune and sufficient pay
but who will squirm and moan while in their seat
we have to smile as each new face we greet
and cannot with our mouths the whole truth say
that we are still the masters and that they
can gain no traction till they learn to cheat
the ones who leave the well-established path
may in the end get no more than a crumb
but still have wandered only where they chose
the rest of us are left to face the wrath
of he whose orders beat out on the drum
tell us to dig up the last shining rose

waiting for the rain

 

waiting for the rain
far too long the autumn drought
bending under strain

you may smile or pout
the choice we have is plain
not to go far out

here is no true gain
we have gone so far past doubt
beyond reach of pain

What we achieve

The truest wonders are the ones we make
(by we I mean the whole damn' human race),
that take us deep in earth or out to space.

Good, honest, craftsmanship we cannot fake,
we see, when once they're in their proper place,
the truest wonders are the ones we make.

Not to look on with awe's the first mistake
that we could make; the truth is no disgrace:
look at the smile on every small child's face.
The truest wonders are the ones we make