Mother Crone

Goodness knows, my end is coming

Said the boy, tied to the stone

On the hill, with a host of heathens

In the eye of mother crone

 

I ain’t got no fear of dying

I’m not scared to die alone

I’m afraid I’ll never leave here

In the arms of mother crone

 

Let my homely spirit wander

Since my body has no home

My heart can break in a thousand pieces

To be swept up by mother crone

 

Let the birds beset upon me

Let them cleave the skin from bone

Swept away and hagridden

In the bed of mother crone

 

In the blackest reach of the river

Let me sink to the bed below

Dispersed in a rash of kindness

As a gift to the mother crone

 

Let my homely spirit wander

Since my body has no home

My heart can break in a thousand pieces

To be swept up by mother crone

 

Goodness knows, my end is coming

Said the boy, tied to the stone

On the hill, with a host of heathens

In the eye of mother crone