St. Clare

Call on that saint

And the candle that burns

Keeping her safe

Until her return

Plaster and paint

Holding the fire

A poor woman's saint

Holding all man's desire

Bold little bird

Fly away home

Could I but ride herd

On the wind and the foam

All of the souls

That curl by the fire

They never know

All man's desire

Watercress clings

To the banks of the stream

In the first grip of spring

When the snow melts to green

Barefoot and cold

And holding a lyre

By the side of the road

Holding all man's desire

Call on the saint

When the white candle burns

Keeping her safe

Until her return