On a pale winter's moon
when all do sleep...

On the broken backs
of cold mountains...

If I should say to the king:
I will bring you this ring...

Joy comes in the mourning,
and you color me true...

One day a poem stood at my doorstep
and I let it come in to get warm and dry...

Yes, words are
the magic elixir...

Standing near the
deepest part of...

Dear Lord, how do I make
a covenant with this poem...

If I should say, what
brings me to this well...

I am not going to let this world stress me out...
Folks are killing each other for no reason at all...

Yeah, just grab an old rusty shovel, a case of Bud...
Yeah, they got all kinds of words that I cain't...

Welcome to
My little cottage...