Fly On Home
You climbed on the train,
The window rolled on,
So did the tear.
And seeing you cry
Was like the very first time, when we parted
In the dews and dusty streets.
You climbed on the train,
The window rolled on,
So did the tear.
And seeing you cry
Was like the very first time, when we parted
In the dews and dusty streets.
I'm just a winding boy,
Don't deny my name.
I'm just a winding boy;
Don't deny my name.
And hello train, it's April fool today.
And when you get here, I know you're going to stay.
Your letter said you'd travel by the 14:30 line
You'll be on the platform running,
Oops, don't you look fine.
Nico, two-headed Cuban giant,
He's looking with all of his eyes
At the colours that fall through the chestnut-tree night,
'Cause tomorrow in London they rise.
And don't you know that I'm dusty, too,
Don't you know that I'm dusty through and through...
I have been fishing all the time,
Won't you come fishing too?
You can bet your life,
Your sweet loving wife
Gonna catch more fish than you!
If the fish bite, you got a good bait,
Here's a little something I would like to relate:
If the fish bite, you got a good bait;
I'm a-going fishing,
Yes I'm going fishing,
I'm a-going fishing too.
Instrumental song that illustrates John's quality as a guitar picker.
Don't go in the flower garden late at night,
Because something there is killing all the gardeners.
Mistletoe and rosemary and the garlic butt
Won't protect you like they did from the gardeners.
Run to your homes, save all your wine,
There's a gardener coming...
Now when I woke up this morning,
My wife she drove me from my door.
When I woke up this morning,
Wife she drove me from my door.
Said go away sweet daddy,
I don't need you no more.
Waking up and finding she's not there;
Sleepy looking around to find out where I am.
Get out of bed, go trippping down the stairs,
And before you eat your breakfast, say your prayers.
And the early morning pigeons fly around,
Getting startled on my lonely-footed sound.
And yesterday's newspaper is flying too;
Whirling down the wind that I once knew...
If you go looking down in the summer
To the village at the bottom of the well;
You'll find nice things and butterflies' wings
And policemen's hats as well.
The girlies there won't hurt,
Because they're also very nice;
There's cats and dogs and bats and frogs
And little pink sugar mais.