Rowin' through the straits, crawlin' cross the mornin' sunHe'd tell of leaving home, England old when he was youngMagic mountains called, caught him, never let him goStanding in the fields long ago, remembrance dayWhile the horses grazed, I never asked the price he paidMemories of old, dead soldier friends so long agoWas his faith so strong, had he doubts that didn't showSeeing life and death, had he learned what I don't know. . .All along the shoreline, our beauteous trees do growAnd watching from their red limbs, kingfishers come and goAnd their secrets of hidden codes, they call across the bayLate in the afternoon, on salt rocks where we layAnd the water turned to gold, and the day was throughGoing home, he'd ask me then, what I hoped to doAll the sons of his thrifty friends, settling downAnd I in my aimless way, just a-ramblin' round. . .. . .Years turn and life turns, beyond windows and doorsThe life that he loved is not his anymoreBut I think of him often, I remember him wellThe places he'd take me, the stories he'd tell. . .But I think of him often, I remember him wellThe places he'd take me, the stories he'd tell