I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t in the drawer

Seems like it might have been there for evermore

Strong brown handle, supple to the grip

Reliable and faithful, never known to slip

Was it forged by master craftsman?

Designed for mighty kings?

For it sliced through bread like butter

With tines as fine as insects’ wings

Dad said, never throw it away

It’s the perfect cutting tool

Anyone who can’t see that

Is a liar and a fool

But the blade itself was broken

Two-thirds of the way down

Snapped off in its glory

Emasculated of its crown

Never to be reforged

Never to be remade

Yet despite all this, a thing of bliss

A glorious broken blade

Broken blade

It still cuts sharp, it will not blunt

It will never let you down

Do not be deceived by what you see

In this or any town

And Mam said, you need no other

Stick with what you’ve got

‘Cos when it’s gone, you may find

It was the pinnacle of your lot

There’s fresh bread in the oven

And hot cakes on the sill

And plenty unturned stones

For grist upon your mill

So, grasp it well in your wee hand

Feel its power and its weight

Make it a part of who you are

Balance it with your fate

For though the blade is broken

Two thirds of the way down

You don’t need the missing part

To carve glory and renown

Let its instincts guide you

Through the cuttings you have made

For there’s a part of us that remains thus

Within that broken blade

Broken blade

So cut deep my darling

Cut deep my friend

Cut deep ‘til you’re fit to weep

But keep on cutting ‘til the end

And though your heart be breaking

Keep on cutting deeper still

Through this broken blade, the truth is laid

Upon a steep bald hill

Where many storm clouds gather

To take stock of what lies there

An open glade with all you’ve made

Standing proud and bare

Where drunken priests and tramps

And saints and scholars come to meet

Where revelers gambol on the grass

You’ve sown around their feet

Where treasure-seekers clamber

To scale its lofty peak

And opportunists hang their hopes

On every word you speak

So reach high my darling

Reach high my friend

Rip those clouds asunder

Cut the scene from end to end

And though the blade is broken

Two thirds of the way down

The power deep within it

Is like History torn down

It need never be reforged

It need never be remade

It need only be what you want it to be

A unique broken blade

A trusted blade

Broken blade

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