|
When the wagons leave the city |
|
For the forest and further on |
|
Painted wagons in the morning |
|
Dusty roads where they have gone |
|
Sometimes travelling through the darkness |
|
Met the summer coming home |
|
Fallen faces by the wayside |
|
Looked as if they might have known |
|
O the sun was in their eyes |
|
And the desert that dries |
|
In the country towns |
|
Where the laughter sounds |
|
O the dancing and the singing |
|
And the music when they played |
|
O the fires that they started |
|
O the girls with no regret |
|
Sometimes they found it |
|
Sometimes they kept it |
|
Often lost it on the way |
|
Even fought each other to possess it |
|
Sometimes died in sight of day |
|
O the sun was in their eyes |
|
And the desert that dries |
|
In the country towns |
|
Where the laughter sounds |
