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 SOF
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