FARAWAY TOM



When the calendar brings in the cuckoo

And the summer comes following on

And the thin mists of day see him running away

And they know him as Faraway Tom



The earth is his bed and his pillow

And his sheets are the clothes he has on

He spends all afternoon hunting the moon

Till it rises for Faraway Tom



He sees the fox leaving his hollow

And he know where the badger is gone

He watches the fawn in the sheltering thorn

But they don't see old Faraway Tom



He knows nothing of letters or learning

And of manners and such he has none

He numbers the seasons on finger and toes

As they pass over Faraway Tom



But what of the winters to follow

Will age and cold wind bring him down

And where will he lie when snow fills the sky

And the years tell on Faraway Tom



sung by Jean Redpath

@age

filename[ FARTOM

SF

===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY