[Call] Bread from the field, oil from the press, She named every gift by another lover’s name, Hedge up the road, let the false path close, [Response] Silver in the hand, wool for the dress. Then carried the gold to a powerless flame. Let every bright promise end where the thorn grows. [Verse 1] She will run and not reach, seek and not find, Till memory turns like a key in the mind. My first home was better than this borrowed feast, [Call] The giver was forgotten while the appetite increased. The moon will go silent, the vineyard grow bare, [Response] No idol can cover the shame standing there. The wall is not hatred; it stops the retreat, [Final Chorus] Hedge up the road, let the false path close, Let every bright promise end where the thorn grows. A thorn in the road may turn wandering feet.