87

Home

Oh the shore in sight!

And the war is won

Far as I’m concerned

The day you’ll be my wedded bride

Oh an olive branch for to kiss the land!

All my kingdom for the flood!

Hand in hand we’ll start over

As any yeoman does

For to sanctify

The ones we’ve left behind

The love we’ll learn in time

Pray for the better

Suffer the worse

My God

The paper

The cotton

The unborn tide

But now the light grows shy

While I await on your reply

I pray the angels take you at eighty-seven

Hold you close and straight to heaven

Angels take you at eighty-seven

So

To the days gone by

And to all the boys

I have loved before

May this be your lullaby

Oh it sounds to me

In the quiet hours

When all is right

And nothing’s still

I think of you seldom

And I always will

Tell your jealous wife

To ease her lonesome mind

We share no earthly ties

Save for the sweater

I always intend to return

The letter you’re never going to write

I hold your unwrit verse

To where it hurts

And pray the angels take you at eighty-seven

Hold you close and straight to Heaven

Angels take you at eighty-seven

Still I’ve kept my vows

In lonely rooms and empty hours

Wept for new beginnings

In the night there comes a temptress singing

Rise up my darling, my beautiful one

The winter is past; the rain is over and gone.

Day breaks and the shadows flee away

And they say -

And they say -