The Inheritance

The lands that should have come to himWere gone with stock and store.They dug a little grave for him,What was he wantin' more.

The trees that should have grown for himHad vanished long before.They carved a little chiss for himWhat was he wantin' more.

The gown his mother worked for him,Put ready in the drawer,Was doin' a little shroud for him,What was he wantin' more.

The Sign of his InheritanceUpon his brow he bore,And that was all there was for himWhat was he wantin' more.