He May Never Return

He may never return to his old Homeplace again And hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain When the cool winds of Spring through the high country blow And the hawthorns are dressed in their blooms white as snow. But he climbs on the mountain when he visualize And the little brown lark from the heather does rise And singing with passion upwards he does fly Till he disappears in the clouds of the sky. A migrant in this Land he always may be But in his flights of fancy he regularly see The ditches and fields in their flowers of the Spring When the nesting songbirds do whistle and sing. In some people's lives destiny has the say The lust of the wander it lured him away From the places and people he loved years ago Back there now perhaps not many he would know. Fond memories of his old Homeplace he retain He hears the stormwater gurgling in the roadside drain And in His flights of fancy he can hear the rill With the babbling tongue in the field by the hill.