Those That Have a Place
Those that have a place
Where the wild pigeon rings
With the soft hammered note,
Let them not leave it.
Where the yellowhammer sings
And the wind is the rumble from a basso throat,
Let them drive a nail
In the wall
To hang up an old coat.
Where the rain leaks
To a rusty pail
On the floor,
And the jay creaks
On the worn boards of the roof.
Those that have a place,
Let them wash their hands