Autumn Snow - The Last Bison

We will sow

We will sow

For to bring the autumn snow

And our labor shall not

Be for us in vain

She will grow she will grow

For to make their dresses flow

Till she’s seeded by the gin

Till the mistress weaves again

We will sow

We will sow

And she will grow

We will weave

We will weave

Until the Master has his sleeves

And for good measure

We’ll clasp his snaps ‘fore dawn

Never leave

Never leave

Until the unison’s agreed

That she is no longer rough

Like the hands that reap her up

We will weave

We will weave

And never leave

These blistered and

These calloused hands

Have done no work alone

We formulate

Then recreate

The patterns that we’ve sown

Foremost the gin

Then fibers spin

It’s all we’ll ever know

For are forebears

Have left us here

To reap the autumn snow

We will reap the autumn snow