Duna When I was a little lad, with folly on my lips, Fain was I for journeying all the seas in ships, But I'm weary of the sea wind, weary of the foam, And the little stars of Duna call me home. When I was a young man, before my beard was grey, All to seas and islands I gave my heart away. Now across the southern swell, every dawn I hear The little streams of Duna running clear. As sung by Gordon Bok on "A Tune for November" Folk-Legacy recording. JD
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!