Wake The Devil From His Dream

there were
no cuckoos
no wild sycamores
we played about
the forest floor
underneath the
silver maples
the balsams
and the sky
we popped the
heads off
dandelions
assuming roles
from nursery rhymes
rested on
the riverbank
and grew up
by and by

frail my heart apart
and play me a little shady grove
ring the bells of Rhymney
'til they ring inside my head forever
bounce the bow, rock the gallows
for the hangman's reel
and wake the devil from his dream
i'm going back to Harlan

and if you were Willie Moore
then i was Barbara Allen
or Fair Ellen all sad at the cabin door
a-weeping and a-pining for love

--Kate and Anna McGarrigle