[Verse 1] Ross stands outside the castle, squinting at the gray, An old man beside him, mumbling, "What a day." "By the clock 'tis day," Ross says, voice low and strange, "Yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp's own range." The sun's still somewhere up there, pinned behind a shroud, Scotland's wrapped in mourning, draped in one black cloud, Is it the eclipse, or shame that blots the blue, Ashamed to shine on what the night just put us through? [Verse 2] The old man's seen some seasons, seventy winters spun, But never has he witnessed what the owl has done— A falcon, towering proud in her place of pride, Was hawked at by a mousing owl and killed mid-flight and died. And Duncan's horses, loyal, swift, and fair, Broke loose and turned to cannibals out there, Devoured one another by the stable beam, As if the whole wide world had split a seam. [Chorus] When the order breaks, the owl eats the sky, When a king is murdered, tame things learn to lie To their own nature, turn their teeth on kin— That's what regicide sets loose within. Thriftless ambition tears the fabric thin, A night against nature, and the dark creeps in. [Verse 3] Enter Macduff, grim-faced, bearing heavier freight, The guards are called the killers — suborned, paid to wait, Bribed (so the story goes) to spill a sleeping king, And Malcolm, Donalbain, suspected of the thing, They fled the scene in grief, but grief looks just like guilt When half the court's already choosing who to tilt. [Verse 4] Macbeth's been named already, riding off to Scone, Where every crowned king of Scotland claims the throne, Duncan's body carried off to Colmekill instead, That holy island churchyard, resting place for the dead, Where ancient Scottish kings lie underneath their stone. But Macduff turns home to Fife — won't watch him crowned, A quiet no that doesn't make a sound. [Chorus] When the order breaks, the owl eats the sky, When a king is murdered, tame things learn to lie To their own nature, turn their teeth on kin— That's what regicide sets loose within. Thriftless ambition tears the fabric thin, A night against nature, and the dark creeps in. [Bridge] "Lest our old robes sit easier than our new," Says Macduff, doubting what the day pushed through— Old robes were comfort; new ones might be tight, A warning stitched in doubt, not spoken outright. Ross answers soft, "God's benison go with you both," A blessing (that's the word) wrapped round an oath, Then parts from him. Watch who stays away— That absence, quiet as it is, has much to say. [Outro] Day is night, the falcon's down, the horses turned, Scotland's whole foundation cracked and burned, A throne propped up on murder can't stand long on stone— Watch the robes, watch the man who won't go home to Scone.
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