Your Funeral, My Trial

I am a crooked man
And I’ve walked a crooked mile
Night, the shameless widow
Doffed her weeds, in a pile
The stars all winked at me They shamed a child
Your funeral, my trial
A thousand Marys lured me To feathered beds and fields of clover
Bird with crooked wing cast
It’s wicked shadow over
A bauble moon did mock
And trinket stars did smile
Your funeral, my trial
Here I am, little lamb…