Once more let me walk beside you through the forest
where twigs and leaves give us comfort
into the west where our dreams now do call
troubadours sing of our journey
scribes report the irony of our lives
sampling the wine from the jug that swings
from your supple shoulder
tasting the fruit that hangs heavy from the vine
forging ahead through the willows
the clouds look like marshmallow pillows
soon we can rest our weary heads
lie in the meadow soft and ever-green
as we start to break our bread
on hallowed ground

the apache kid