The first night of Woodford is long
Sounds like dry leaves against the tent
The people are creating a song
As the heavens cool waters are sent
Here the exhaust could be a digerie-doo
The hammering of pegs achapello
Existence of man almost good
Harmony of man soft and mellow.
Temptation seems futile
From a fortress of white
The will changes all
In the face of the night
Black,
Night is black,
So beautiful and strong.
The first night of Woodford is long
Poetry 