There was a man from harper hill,
who had an awful habit,
that every time he'd need a fill,
you'd find him eating rabbit.
Little land so fresh and green,
strangers walk upon your head.
You gave your hands to keep it clean,
thumbs alive but eight are dead.
He suddenly stiffened,
with a breeze from the past.
His mind and it's thoughts,
were set free at last.
I once was blind but now can see,
all my blind friends envy me.
I see the sun, the moon and star,
whilst they still wonder what they are.
Warm, still and silent,
all thoughts were a dream.
With great expectations,
a thrill it did seem.