The Crow

Black as coal with the Devil’s eye
Fly like a witch in the evening sky
Black as coal with the Devil’s eye
Men flee, men hide and children cry

Oh the crow does sit on the shortest branch
Of the oldest oak there be
And she views her vast surroundings
With an ominous sense of glee
She’s more devious than the falcon
She is wiser than the owl
She has seen the greatest feats of men
And has witnessed deeds most foul

Black as coal with the Devil’s eye
Fly like a witch in the evening sky
Black as coal with the Devil’s eye
Men flee, men hide and children cry

Oh she softly glides to the earth below
Cloaked in childish dreams of night
And settles upon a pile of dead
Neither sorrowful nor contrite
For the dead, they were once children
They were wards of a pious state
Well now they lie here lifeless
Victims of an imposed faith

Black as coal with the Devil’s eye
Fly like a witch in the evening sky
Black as coal with the Devil’s eye
Men flee, men hide and children cry

Oh the sisters call her a wicked bird
As they run and wave their arms
But the crow respects the olden ways
Of nature spells and forest charms
She calls the children to her
And to her they do come
They leave the evils of men’s earth
And fly towards the rising Sun