Tell My Sister (1971 Version, NYC)

Weather man on the radio

Threatens rain, maybe snow

He just forecasts, he don't know

I need fair weather

I've got to go

I'm not a cowboy

I've never been shot

I'm not a convict

I've never been caught

Tell my sister

To tell my mother

I'm coming home

Home, home, home, home alone

Sunday morning

Boarded a plane

Got on in London

It was pouring rain

Tell my sister

To tell my mother

I'm coming home

Home, home, home, home alone

Someday I'll go back again

To that green and pleasant land

Between the Channel and the sea

Across the ocean, that's where I want to be

But until then tie me to the ground

I've got to let these weary bones rest

From all my runnin' around

But tell my sister

To tell my mother

I'm coming home

Home, home, home, home alone

And when my blue's are gone

And once again I'm gay

I'm gonna hop that ocean liner

I'm gonna sail away

But tell my sister

To tell my mother

I'm coming home

Home, home, home, home alone