Those who bear stones carry them in baskets woven.

They wander down the mountain with feet bare and black,

For those who bear stones shall return to hooves cloven.

The mountain’s road will leave their feet bruised and swollen.

Their baskets will tear, and their stones will fall and crack.

Those who bear stones carry them in baskets woven.

When the stones get too heavy, blood flows red rowan,

For those that can’t bear it––to Mother, they turn their backs.

But, those who bear stones should return to hooves cloven!

“Baskets of steel,” Mother says, “Are sinful and stolen.

They steal from my soil, and leave behind their plaque.

Those who bear stones, carry them in baskets woven.”

Ev’ryman carries rubble stolon to stolon.

The plaque we leave does not disappear with the past,

For those who bear stones shall return to hooves cloven.

The soil waits, taking the baskets we’ve chosen.

Alas, the plaque remains, on new feet bare and black.

Those who bear stones: carry them in baskets woven,

For those who bear stones shall return to hooves cloven.