The Well Mother

The well mother spins fine silk

She spins fine fine silk

And so our convoy stays well built

We stay well well built

The well mother spins fine silk

She spins fine fine silk

But the damp clouds dull my brown skin all the same

Not much grows on the tundra plain

At least not with which we could sustain

And so we keep her spirits well

For when it’s time to tap the well

We try to lessen the burden

For our well mother

The burden of travel

For our well mother

We try to lessen the burden

For our well mother

Of course we do what we can along our way

We beat the path

Beat the path down,

For her tired, tired feet

We tread a track through the harsh ground

For some ounce of relief

At her back, lest she falls down

Through these tired, tired days

When it’s her turn to provide

We sing her praise

Not much grows on the tundra plain

At least not with which we could su-

And so we try

We try to lessen the burden

For our well mother

The burden of travel

For our well mother

We try to lessen the burden

For our well mother

You know we do what we can along our way

But she says

“I may be revered now

But if the well were to run dry

I’d be carved

Carved and cured

And stored in your packs”

And I tell her that it’s not true

But I’m not sure that she’s not right