They Lay In Dust
By their graves I kneel
And speak to the stone slabs
As I listen to the wind
Their beds are under sun and rain
Tiny babies to grandparents
Who speak no more nor do they sing
They're in slumber with no pain
They've left us their tools and violin
Finely chiselled words on their tombs
Shine them till they lived
As recorded by kith and kin
You, young ones, preserve it
For in you we all trust
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