Album: Look Both Ways / Rise and Go
Six men trapped by circumstance
In the bleak and bitter cold
Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story's told
Their dying fire in need of logs
The first one held his back
For of the faces 'round the fire
He noticed one man black
The next one sitting 'cross the way
Saw one not of his church
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch
The third one sat in tattered clothes
And gave his coat a hitch
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought
Of all he had in store
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy poor
And the black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight
All he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white
The last man of this group
Did nought except for gain
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game
Their logs frozen in the their hands
Was proof of human sin
They didn't die from cold without
They died from cold within
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