 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
14
THE TRAVELLER
I love a little darling
Who is smaller than a starling,
But she wants to fly a thousand miles away.
On a metal line she's sitting,
With a heart pit-pat-pit-pitting
As the English evening turns from gold to grey.
Who is smaller than a starling,
But she wants to fly a thousand miles away.
On a metal line she's sitting,
With a heart pit-pat-pit-pitting
As the English evening turns from gold to grey.
She's finished all her packing,
And there's really nothing lacking
For the journey to be taken in the old and wondrous way.
She's at fever-heat for going,
By a law beyond our knowing,
As the English evening turns from gold to grey.
And there's really nothing lacking
For the journey to be taken in the old and wondrous way.
She's at fever-heat for going,
By a law beyond our knowing,
As the English evening turns from gold to grey.
I think each reader guesses
Why she has no change of dresses,
Though she means to make so very long a stay:
In her coat and skirt of feather
She's prepared for foreign weather
As the English evening turns from gold to grey.
Why she has no change of dresses,
Though she means to make so very long a stay:
In her coat and skirt of feather
She's prepared for foreign weather
As the English evening turns from gold to grey.
Not in body can I follow
Through the air the gentle swallow,
Yet my love shall speed beside her on the way.
Now the sky is snowing, snowing
With ten thousand flakes. She's going!
And the English evening's gold is lost in grey.
Through the air the gentle swallow,
Yet my love shall speed beside her on the way.
Now the sky is snowing, snowing
With ten thousand flakes. She's going!
And the English evening's gold is lost in grey.
| A merry-go-round of song | |