Unyoked Oxen Turn

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Alasdair Roberts, Copyright Control

One year I ran and ran and ran
In the east and the south and the north and the west
And it’s only when I finally came to rest
Did I realise I had no legs

So I picked up again and ran and ran

And everywhere I ran I did proclaim
“I’m no cripple, I’m not lame
No, I’m just looking for my legs
I’m just looking for my legs”

Through Christendom and Araby
And all through Higher Heathenry
Up the shale and down the scree
Wondering where those legs could be

And in the gallery so vast
Ambassadors were breaking fast
And when I asked they looked aghast
“We’re all looking for our legs”

And in the balcony so high
Men of avarice rushing by
And when I asked they gave a sigh
“We’re all looking for our legs”

And in the dining hall so long
The shackled harper sang her song
And the stone-eared feasters sang along
They sang “we’re all looking for our legs”

So I picked up again and ran and ran

Then in a city in the north
I came to the foot of the High-Low Stair
Something gave a twinkle in my eye
And there stood a Sage in the frosty air

And to this Sage I did proclaim
“Look, I’m no cripple, I’m not lame
No, I’m just looking for my legs
Tell me, Brother, have you seen my legs?”

Then the Sage gave a wink (as a Sage should do)
And just as he began to freeze
He said these words, and I tell you true
“Forget your legs and find your knees”

So I bent to the task and took to the air
Up and down the High-Low Stair
‘Cross the chasm, ‘cross the Schism
Like a moonbeam through a prism

Time to live as the unyoked oxen turn
Time to turn as the unyoked oxen live
Time to live as the unyoked oxen turn
Time to turn as the unyoked oxen live