It

Who no longer can listen

It

Saw a gusty wind



Come up to listen

Before I was ten

and all of the evil grids

From a hill where rats consider



And they gang

And they topple

And they send a smoke ring

Into the onion field

A ghost!

And this can make you choke

Coming from the throat

Of a ghost!



And sent to my weak knees

From a voice plantation

All in together

In terror