- For Byron Herbert Reece

Chicken scratching for a living was a hardscrabble life
Oh, the poet, he was a farmer, working all day to write all night
Dig dig peck peck set that babble free
But that fox in the henhouse – it won’t ever let you be

It didn’t matter to him if he was hungry, sick or tired
He gave words to the wordless
He was fortified by the blood of the lamb, the yield of the field that he hoed
When the Lord called Elijah, he went down to Jericho

Look away to the mountain blue
If I could tell you a thing or two
Every seed that you sowed, every word that you wrote
Brought another sparrow home

Yeah, you’re more than the bitter berry that was picked before its time
And your life it was necessary for the weight of the rhyme
All the camptown kids said, “Teach us the service of a song!”
But that sure shot leaning in the corner-it won’t ever leave you alone

Look away to the mountain blue
If I could tell you a thing or two
Every seed that you sowed, every word that you wrote
Brought another sparrow home

Pull that plow thought sorrow’s acre, it’s the dirt that makes us clean
And the earth reveals your maker, as a child bears a king
For the meek and the mild, there is grace in yonder’s wild
But for you dear boy

Every seed that you sowed, every word that you wrote
Brought another sparrow home