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• Artiste: Alasdair Roberts
• Titre: Unyoked Oxen Turn
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One year I ran and ran and ran In the East and the South and the North and the West And It's only when I finally came to rest That I realized I had no legs, So i picked up again and ran and ran. And everywhere I ran I did proclaim, "I am no cripple, I'm not lame. No I'm just looking for my legs, I'm just looking for my legs." Through Christendom and Araby, And all through higher heathenry, Up the shale and down the scree Wondering where those legs could be. And in the gallery so vast, Ambassadors were breaking fast, And when I asked they looked aghast, "We're just looking for our legs." And in the balcony so high, Men of avarice rushing by, And when I asked, they gave a sigh, "We're just looking for our legs." And in the dining hall so long, The shackled harper sang her song, And the stone-eared feasters sang along, They sang, "We're all looking for our legs." So I picked up again and ran and ran. And then in a city in the North, I came to the foot of the high-low stair Something gave a twinkle in my eye And there stood a sage in the frosty air. And to the sage I did proclaim, "Look I'm no cripple, I'm not lame. No, I'm just looking for my legs, Tell me, brother, have you seen my legs?" Then the sage gave a wink, as a sage should do, And just as he began to freeze, He said these words, and I'll tell you true, "Forget your legs and find your knees." So I bent to the task, and took to the air Up and down the high-low stair 'Cross the chasm, 'cross the schism, Like a moonbeam through a prism. Time to live as the unyoked oxen turn, Time to turn as the unyoked oxen live. Time to live as the unyoked oxen turn, Time to turn as the unyoked oxen live.