The Cull

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Wigsworth and The Clergy

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Plant the seeds
Don't ask 'no' questions
Sit at ease
even when the weather is psychotic
And the stick shed once was full
We burnt it down in the cold
Just don't talk to me about the Cull
That little girl, she loves that foal.
Grass Seedlings, are scarce
In this dark and dreary year
But the mud slides on,
South
Towards the steers
NO questions asked
no questions need be asked...
are time is gone
And the stick shed once was full
We burnt it down to the coals
Just don't talk to me about the Cull
Talk to her who named the foal
talk to her....
And the stick shed once was full
Winter came and took its toll
Just don't talk to me about the cull
Talk to her who named the foal.

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