It's a long long way from home my friend
the moonlit night at summer's end
when simple silver light doth wend
when simple silver light doth wend
through crooked branch and falling leaves.
Looking back past lonesome roads
we traveled bearing heavy loads
while our desire behind us goads
with promises of home's warm fire.
For certain she who loves us grieves
the same as when we took our leaves
and now she only misconceives
our paths forever parted.
Perhaps when spring again retire
after winter and its ire
and summer once more starts entire,
our half-walked journey then retrace
A place in mind that when we started
even now our course has charted
past unknown trials to fainthearted
hidden just behind that bend.
In few short days we find the place
since now we will increase our pace
to see it sooner, face to face.
Yet it's a long long way back to our abodes.
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