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Hey mother fertile one
Speak to me your numbered son
From the dust of wood and stone
Gave you birth to flesh and bone

Suckled we your lovely breast
And filled your shores from east to west
Plucked the fruit from every vine
And filled the stores at harvest time

But from the seed of Eve childís womb
Human hands have wrought their doom

Hey mother tell your child
The fertile fields have grown up wild
Do you see your cherished pride
Drying like a withered vine

Withered vine, do you see
Bitter wine left on the lees

Hey mother hear my plea
Send the one to set us free
To turn away our hearts no more
And slake our thirst for blood and war

Blood and war, days of old
Bring the lion to the fold

Hey children hear my plea
Locust come like stormy seas
Study now your own two hands
Lest you lose your motherís land
Study now your own two hands
Lest you lose your motherís land

I finished this song the night before I played live on KUT one day and they recorded it. I just barely had time to get it on this record. It is a plea to all of us to respect our home.