i was wielding my axe dunk whisky at the bar every night coming home out of the windshield of my car i would look through the boughs and think i saw my lucky star i was spreading my sheets took dinner all alone every night of the week awaiting by the phone and i d dab off my tears with my favorite pine cone needle prick my spruce root dear little hemlock shoot make me stay sharp and keen evergreen i would tend to my bees sell honey on the road every fall in the wet watching lorries take their load and i d get all my winnings ask for special sap in code in august for three weeks i m back in the village where i clip all sorts of brambles and thorns from up the hill i pip in a little clay cup the stuff i cross myself and sip needle prick my spruce root dear little hemlock shoot make me stay sharp and keen evergreen i was casting my line angling way the day the stream was swift it was clear ut the light was getting gray i bent down by the thistle and thought of what it was i d say needle prick my spruce root dear little hemlock shoot make me stay sharp and keen evergreen