Westward Bound - Mark Hollis

Opaline through her hair

Born on an April tide

Glowing in the wonder of our first child

There my promise is

A spur

A rein

The world upon my back

The pressure upon this earth

Drought’s heir

Sown my money

Sold my shirt

Sown my money

Migrate

Job on the threshing line

Mute I walk

Idle ground

Westward bound