The Knit Cap of the Lapidary (Snood (reprise))

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
This snood, gray wool with blue flecks,
frayed at the edges from the years.
I pull it over my hair in the workshop,
early morning, 6:30 AM, light gray through the cracked pane.
Margaret Wilson wore one like it,
born 1865, died 1923, in her Scottish mill.
She said it was her shield against the lint.
Now it's mine against the quartz dust.

[Chorus]
Snood, you keep the stone's breath from my locks,
rough wool scratching my forehead gently.
In this room of stone walls, dim and humming,
with the grinding wheel's leather strap creaking.
You're my journeyman's crown, absorbent of spirits,
ten years unwashed, holding the luck of rare gems.

[Verse 2]
Outside, the handcart waits, splintered slats from salt air,
loaded with rough stones from the beach.
Inside, I bend over the wheel, foot on the pedal,
12 degrees Celsius seeping through the floor to my toes.
The brass-handled polisher, wooden grip worn smooth,
next to the chisels on their rack.
You catch the mineral tang, mix it with your damp must.

[Bridge]

They say in coastal villages, a snood like you
absorbs the stone's spirit, whispers of apprentices unnamed,
helpers in the ledgers, girls and boys forgotten.
But I know your maker's hands, though the record gaps.
Was it gifted, inherited? No matter.
You're here, my listening flap against the grit.

[Verse 3]
On the stool, rye bread crust and nettle tea tin,
lukewarm in the break.
I adjust you, feel the chill air on my neck,
but you hold the warmth, the earth's quiet secrets.
Margaret's quote echoes: ne’er let the lint touch.
Now, ne’er let the dust claim me.

[Chorus]
Snood, you keep the stone's breath from my locks,
rough wool scratching my forehead gently.
In this room of stone walls, dim and humming,
with the grinding wheel's leather strap creaking.
You're my journeyman's crown, absorbent of spirits,
ten years unwashed, holding the luck of rare gems.

[Outro]

As the dawn strengthens, I work on.