Left boot stuck in a pocket of damp Wiping the soot from the kerosene lamp I stare past the briar, I squint at the slope Armed with a sandwich and plenty of rope A shape in the brambles is taking a stance Could be an army, or sheep in a trance The whistle of wind makes a mocking report I scribble a zero upon the report Two frozen ears and a runny wet nose Watching the shadows grow out of their clothes Keep Both Eyes Fixed On The Border Line Looking For Trouble By The Timber Sign Is It Just A Badger In The Undergrowth Or Ten Strong Men Who Broke Their Oath? Cough in the sleeve, rattle the gate Nobody tells you how boring to wait The parish clerk promised some bacon and ale Instead I get drizzle, a bucket, and hail I heard a sharp crack by the edge of the ditch Could be an outlaw, or merely a switch I challenge the hedge with a threatening shout A pheasant flaps upward and scurries right out My heart hits the ceiling, my knees start to slide I pretend to be brave with no place left to hide Ten hours of staring at branches and bark Will turn any bush to a thief in the dark Shadow to the left. Shadow to the right. Counting up the hours of a windy night. If a ghost walks by, I will tip my hat. I don't get paid to be fighting with that. Keep Both Eyes Fixed On The Border Line Looking For Trouble By The Timber Sign Is It Just A Badger In The Undergrowth Or Ten Strong Men Who Broke Their Oath? Cough in the sleeve, rattle the gate Nobody tells you how boring to wait Watch the ditch. Mind the stick. Was that a man? Just a twig.
