She was down in the backfields
Down past the outwaters
Threading through the tall grass
Pulled by the river's roar
When something inside whispered
of those who used to harm
long long ago
far over faint hills; can you see?
And so she wrapped her arms
round her shoulders ;
gave herself a tug -
"They're dead, dead, dead."
Then off they went,
Hands clasped tight
billowing through
the dark meadow
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