Sometimes in the middle of the lonely night. No one there to be his friend. He'd grab the fiddle and he'd hold it tight. The angels there would gather 'round him.
Go east of your dream and farm. Let peace and silence spin your yarn. What harm can befall thee. In yon wilderness of clove?. . Go on east of ginger trees.
I used to look out from my window. And see the tall grass in the wind. Standing there just like advance guards. Waiting for the battle to begin. . My mother used to be much younger.