Sammy - Sj
Forget the corn
Down the gully, boy
It is a poor crop
To our present history.
First Heather,
Then your father
I am torn with so many griefs for you
Then just when healing was about to begin
Your best brother to me
And your sister evading memory
Tore the sepulchre of pain open.
O little tree
How do you take all this storm?
Where do you find the roots
So deep down to cope?
God must be very good,
Very deep soil to you.
Please plant again, my faith in three.
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