There's a wrinkle in the water
Where we laid our first daughter
And I think the wind blows sweetly there.
Over there.

And the windows and the cinders
And the willows in the timbers.
The infernal rattling of the rain
Still remains.

"But I..." said the bachelor to the bride,
"...Am not waiting for tonight.
No, I, I will box your ears and leave you here stripped bare."

Hear the corncrakes and the deerhooves
And the sleet rain on the slate roof
A medallion locked inside her hands
In her hands

And his fingers, are they telling
Of the barren of her belly?
Do his calluses cure her furrowed brow?
Even now?

"But I..." said the bachelor to the bride,
"...Am not waiting for tonight.
No, I, I will box your ears and leave you here stripped bare."

Stripped bare... stripped bare... stripped bare....

But I..." said the bachelor to the bride,
"...Am not waiting for tonight.
No, I, I will box your ears and take your tears and leave you,
leave you here,
stripped bare."