Cross Of Feathers
Cross-of feathers
Anonymous
When I die make me a cross of feathers white,
And place it in my hands before the long night.
Fly my birds as high as they will,
Around and around until they have
Had their fill.
Hold old jet stream till last,
Then let him out,
And he will join the white flock
That is flying about.
Off they will go in a steady flight
And in their loft they will be,
Before the night.
To rest and sleep just like me,
Soft and cooing,
As I will be.
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