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The Hands That Know - The Cheeky Celt
These hands have shaped the morning light before the bells begin
They know the weight of iron tools and how the day comes in
They've steered the boats, they've mended ropes, they've set the nets just so
No book ever taught them how, these are the hands that know
They've counted seasons by the ache that settles in the bone
They've learned the shore by sailing it and not by names alone
They've felt the weather in the air, the promise in the roll
They don't speak much of why it's done, these are the hands that know
They don't ask what the world will bring, they don't hurry or pretend
They do the work the morning needs and lay down at end
No songs were sung, no stories told, no debt the past it owed
Just quiet days and late solitude by the hands that know
They've passed a skill without a word, just standing side by side
Showing when to hold back fast and when to let it slide
What's kept is not in memory but in the way things go
From once-set worn and weathered palms to hands that come to know
They don't fear the setting sun or what the night will show
They've done what was required of here and dancing off to know
When names are lost and songs fall still and no one tells the tale
The work remains, the marks they set were knowing and prevail
Long afterwards that have their turn and lot of things have gone
The land remembers how it's held by hands that carry it all
