A Boat Run A'land

High above the branches they make their pleas

Over the leaves and under the branches

Round the rocks is where they hide, those birdies

Chirp-chirp, the calls fall like avalanches

Leaves all around, leaves padding for the ground

The leaves make its footsteps silent as night

The sly fox skirts through the trees all around

It weaves up hills as if taking flight

And at this great place where bird and fox meet

Surrounded by river, rock, and the trees

Far far away from inside where we eat

They beg of us that their home we don’t seize

But our inside ears do not understand

Our inside selves are a boat run a’land