The House of the Clinging and the House of the Gentle
Two houses on a barren hill
The families are sitting still
The storm is weeping overhead
Everybody stays in bed

They hear the falling raindrops chime
Their dreams consume them all the time

One house is red with a hollow floor
Rosemary is planted all around the door
The babies sleep in the master bed
The mother holds her weary head

The other house is blue and gray
The fences have all given way
The father sleeps with open eyes
And bread is baking deep inside

A stranger from the forest looks
Across the valley and the raging brook
He sees the sight and feels the chill
Two houses sliding down the hill…
No one up there understands
As they sink into the land
They don’t know, but soon may learn
That their houses make the whole world turn…