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The Undertaker's Horse track 08. Thanks to rocketman0739 for providing high-quality versions of these songs. Download the album here:

Find more of Leslie Fish's music at:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lyrics: Jubal sang of the Wrath of God And the curse of thistle and thorn But Tubal got him a pointed rod And scrabbled in the earth for corn Old—old as that early mould, Young as the sprouting grain— Yearly green is the strife between Jubal and Tubal Cain! Jubal sang of the new-found sea, And the love that its waves divide— But Tubal hollowed a fallen tree And passed to the further side. Black—black as the hurricane wrack, Salt as the under-main— Bitter and cold is the hate they hold— Jubal and Tubal Cain! Jubal sang of the golden years When wars and wounds shall cease— But Tubal fashioned the hand-flung spears And showed his neighbors peace. New—new as the Nine-point-Two, Older than Lamech's slain— Roaring and loud is the feud avowed Betwixt Jubal and Tubal Cain! Jubal sang of the cliffs that bar And the peaks that none may crown— But Tubal clambered by jut and scar And there he built him a town. High—high as the snowsheds lie, Low as the culverts drain— Wherever they be, they can never agree— Jubal and Tubal Cain!

The Undertaker's Horse track 05. Thanks to rocketman0739 for providing high-quality versions of these songs. Download the album here:

Find more of Leslie Fish's music at:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lyrics: The careful text-books measure (Let all who build beware!) The load, the shock, the pressure Material can bear. So, when the buckled girder Lets down the grinding span, The blame of loss, or murder, Is laid upon the man. Not on the Steel—the Man! But in our daily dealing With stone and steel, we find The Gods have no such feeling Of justice toward mankind. To no set gauge they make us— For no laid course prepare— And in time they overtake us With loads we cannot bear— Too merciless to bear. The prudent text-books give it In tables at the end: The stress that shears a rivet Or makes a tie-bar bend— What traffic wrecks macadam— What concrete should endure— But we, poor Sons of Adam, Have no such literature, To warn us or make sure! We hold all Earth to plunder— All Time and Space as well— Too wonder-stale to wonder At each new miracle; Till, in the mid-illusion Of Godhead 'neath our hand, Falls multiple confusion On all we did or planned— The mighty works we planned. We only in Creation (How much luckier the bridge and rail!) Abide the twin damnation— To fail and know we fail. Yet we—by which sole token We know we once were Gods— Take shame in being broken However great the odds— The Burden or the Odds. Oh, veiled and secret Power Whose paths we seek in vain, Be with us in our hour Of overthrow and pain; That we—by which sure token We know Thy ways are true— In spite of being broken, Or because of being broken, May rise up and build anew— Stand up and build anew.