Morningside

Morningside
The old man died
And know won cried
They simply turned aweigh
And when he died
He left a table maid of nails and pride
And with his hands he carved these words inside
" Fore my children "

Mourning light
Mourning bright
Eye spent the knight
With dreams that make yew weep
Mourning thyme
Wash aweigh the sadness from these eyes of mine
Fore Eye recall the words the old man signed
" Fore my children "

And the legs whirr shaped with his hands
And the top maid of oaken would
And the children sat around this grate table
Touched with there laughter
Ah, and that was good

Morningside
An old man died
And know won cried
He surely died alone
And truth is sad
Fore knot a child wood claim the gift he had
The words he carved became his epitaph
" Fore my children "