Ballad of the Black Sheep

My brother,
He never left the old fireside.
I was the one
Who liked to ride.

I always felt I
Had to wander and roam.
Never met nobody’s got
What it takes to keep me home.

Every job I have
I throw away my pay
And raise sand each and
Every day.

My brother gathers
What the folks call
Moss.
But me—
I am a
Total loss.

Help me, Jesus!