Still in a bog with Seamus Heaney
Even if he did not choose me
Even if they did not choose me
For the ritual sacrifice
Still makes him smile
And even as I did not choose him
Blind hands are stirring the bog.
Still in a bog with Seamus Heaney
Even if he did not choose me
Even if they did not choose me
For the ritual sacrifice
Still makes him smile
And even as I did not choose him
Blind hands are stirring the bog.