eirlys rhiannon

red riding hood

Jack’s cried over beans,
but he won’t claim it for himself
Says I’m dealing in dreams;
plentiful pots won’t bake the bread
The path through the woods marks out
things that you shouldn’t do

Stretched out on a limb, with chainsaws,
and footsteps gone before
My parents obeyed,
but freely admit: you choose your grave
Could I tire of being good?
I’ve hung up my hood,

And of course this is scary
It’s uncharted territory
I’ve never been here before
I can still hear the wolf at the door

So I’ve tried to explain,
though never quite sure it’s all worthwhile
Just hoping wolf’s clothing will fool
each passing god to lower their ire
At the end of the fray the red of the clay
Reminds me, remoulds me

Of course this is scary
It’s uncharted territory
I’ve never been here before
I can still hear the wolf at the door

But the magic wouldn’t come
til I chose to give it away
And the pots ’round my home -
the line gets shorter every day

And the things left behind
aren’t just folks being kind
It’s an honest exchange,
though you won’t hear them say it:
we’ll share what we have

Are you sure this is scary,
this uncharted territory?
I wonder who’s been here before
and if they heard the wolf at the door

words and music Eirlys Rhiannon © 2007