Reaping the Rich Harvest-The Icicle Works

(McNabb) Lo, the poor Indian whose poor untutored mind Clothes him in front, but leaves him bare behind Maybe in another year the simple life we lead Could become more comfortable, or even change completely Evangeline, your streets were washed away You'll never vent your anger, We'll await with baited breath For something better than we have Shallow dreams undone Fruitless and unsung No challenge towers so steep Seven horses deep A festival came to my town and quickly went away Faith contains the seed of lowly tragedy they say. One step forward, two steps back The bango jangles in the subway Some await with bated breath For something better than they have Shallow dreams undone Fruitless and unsung No challenge towers so steep Seven horses deep