Just beneath the mountain,
Near creek and old mill,
A town i'd like to live in,
When i am finally still.
I'm going there some day -
When all travel done.
I'll lay my suitcase down,
And write my final song.
I was not content with dreams,
Of love, god, or ghosts.
I was troubled to find their sense,
In comfort or in hope.
I'm certain to sadness and sleep.
Tired of my peculiar tongue,
And the brain from which it stems.
I wonder if i have one?
I never sought a husband,
Nor children or house of gold.
Mine riches are found in reason,
At this old trader's post.
So go now and set my ashes,
To mill's brook by and by.
And do not sob for me my dears,
For i cannot hear you cry!
Near creek and old mill,
A town i'd like to live in,
When i am finally still.
I'm going there some day -
When all travel done.
I'll lay my suitcase down,
And write my final song.
I was not content with dreams,
Of love, god, or ghosts.
I was troubled to find their sense,
In comfort or in hope.
I'm certain to sadness and sleep.
Tired of my peculiar tongue,
And the brain from which it stems.
I wonder if i have one?
I never sought a husband,
Nor children or house of gold.
Mine riches are found in reason,
At this old trader's post.
So go now and set my ashes,
To mill's brook by and by.
And do not sob for me my dears,
For i cannot hear you cry!