one morning, one morning
as work i begun
what did i see
riding out of the sun
on the road from lexington
one rider, one rider
beatin’ in the breeze
low in his saddle
down to his knees
comin’ through my willow trees
now closer
the terrible work of a gun
was stiffened and black
where his blood all had run
but i knew my wayward son
one morning, one moring
the boy of my breast
came to my door, unable to rest
even in the arms of death
