| The wind blows chilly, my bag is empty
|
| The road runs narrow and it’s full of holes
|
| I’ve seen fine cities, and fields of plenty
|
| But none so lovely as the ones at home
|
| And home is far, far across the ocean
|
| My house is nothing more, now, than a song
|
| Oh, come kind brothers, and sing a song for me
|
| It’s been a long long time that I’ve been gone
|
| I’ve traveled here and I traveled yonder
|
| I’ve journey far and wide and up and down
|
| But still the pathway is love to wander
|
| Winds down the starry field
|
| My friends are far far across the ocean
|
| If they’ve forgotten me, It’s only fair
|
| Oh come, kind brothers, we’ll send the dove to them
|
| And we will drink good health to them and theirs
|
| The wind blows chilly, my bag is empty
|
| Though fortune smiled at me a time or so
|
| There’s no denying she’s a fine lady
|
| It’s your own doing if you let her go
|
| And free’s the grass (Ahh…) and sweet grows the jasmine
|
| Though hard times often last a lenghty spell
|
| The sky is light now… the morning’s risen
|
| Oh, come, kind brothers, now, bid me farewell |