The Unthanks - Whitethorn lyrics

Whitethorn, my children you hold Whitethorn, cradle and grave Headstone, berries in winter Sorrow, your thorns from my blood I carried my love from the spring to the winter I carried her 'til I heard her first cry I cradled her close against my warm bosom But Annie died on the night she was born Whitethorn, my children you hold... So fertile are we under this dark sky Barren the fields, raped of their stock Pregnant the cure for all my ambition A condition it seems, more often than not Whitethorn, my children you hold... Each day brings less food to the table Each pa**ing year with more mouths to feed Annie was spared the hunger of childhood Relief like cold water mixed with my grief Whitethorn, bring me my children Whitethorn, to cradle at last Berries, red are the bruises Whitethorn, the night will turn black Whitethorn, my children you hold...