he scraped his knee once,
when he was young,
and began to weep as
his blood trickled onto the sidewalk

his mother cleaned him up,
rested his head upon her ever-bruised shoulder,
stroked his hair,
and sang

     hush little baby,
     don't you cry
     it'll all hurt much less
     when you die

she scraped her knee once,
when she grew old,
and began to cry as
her blood trickled onto the floor boards

her son cleaned it up,
rested her head on his sturdy shoulder
stroked her hair,
and sang

     *hush now mama,
     don't you weep
     he's long gone now so
     you can sleep