Two White Horses

Two white horses draw the plough From where I stand I hear no sound The hours of this creeping day In polished harness led away Ploughman's feet in furrows Walking, walking Years have bent this ploughman's back As wind deforms the skyline tree Two white horses never tire In all the turnings of the day Turning, always turning In this never-ending field Two white horses draw the plough From where I stand I hear no sound Two white horses never tire In all the turnings of the day Walking, always walking In this never-ending field