Hark I Hear It

Hark I hear it
There it goes
A friends cry
A women's woe

My shoulders are damp
My hands unheld
Oh!  My poor friends
Must live this hell

I stand among
A broken land
With heavy shoulders
And still empty hands

I must not
Cry my pain
But they do it
All the same

Oh!  How the cries
Find my ear
I don't remember
Hell in the forecast this year