We should step out From under this cloud Take chance to meet daylight Abandon the crowd Let’s pack off the ghosts So late to their beds With a hand-tied of lavender To gentle their rest
What have we here for tether? Our own restraint Which sprite are we appeasing with this Long-recited litany of grievous shame? Heathens brewing virtue from a Reservoir of pain With life for drink from brim to brink Who’d choose to sink in Such small ale?
We should step out From under this shroud Warming bones in the dapple light With the choosing still ours
What is here to keep us But our own restraint Whose sins are we redeeming With our much-beleaguered retinue of bleeding saints? What heathen waits to rest by sleeping? Hold your creeping tears to fill a pail For pity’s sake It’s such small ale
For what else is there to keep us But our own restraint What nature do we sweeten in our reservoir Of bitter rain This drowning game Blow these seething years to fill a sail With life for drink From brim to brink Who’d choose to sink in Such small ale? We wont sink in Such small ale
