you were warned of snakes in the corn
of devils in the deepest green
wayward souls, the murder of crows
living in the family tree
a secret's safe in matters of faith
guarded with a fist and fang
the prophet's got a broom and mop
and an eye for shiny things
the trash is filled with scraps of silver
to twist and rearrange
heaven sent a message meant for you to hear, St James
built a shrine of wrappers and twine
kept it all with glue and pins
every fold was gilded in gold
at a table set for kings
you were born of holier forms
never as you seemed to be
indisposed receiving in code
through branches on the family tree