The dog calls its night, and growls at the door.
Wind whispers carelessly across the loch
And black watered waves strike upon the moor.
Thy master sleeps sound, you rest on the floor
praying for sleep, chains bound like such livestock.
The dog calls its night, and growls at the door.
The land whence you came ever left you poor,
A chance exodus, sailing from the dock.
Now black watered waves strike upon the moor.
'Twas not six years passed when you went to war,
The Roses swore bounty, filled to th'oarlock.
But the dog calls its night, and growls at the door.
Promises, youthful oaths, bound to the lord
you were; you thought you could make the world stop,
Yet black watered waves strike upon the moor
As Bosworth marked the tragic end of York,
Your freedom was cut, it was but a mock.
The dog calls its night, and growls at the door.
And black watered waves strike upon the moor.
Now black watered waves strike upon the moor.
'Twas not six years passed when you went to war,
The Roses swore bounty, filled to th'oarlock.
But the dog calls its night, and growls at the door.
Promises, youthful oaths, bound to the lord
you were; you thought you could make the world stop,
Yet black watered waves strike upon the moor
As Bosworth marked the tragic end of York,
Your freedom was cut, it was but a mock.
The dog calls its night, and growls at the door.
And black watered waves strike upon the moor.
