I come from the moor and the mointain, from the waterfall and stream.
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I've turned my back on the mountain track; I'm walking in a dream.
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And ev'ry new horizon to mee it looks the same
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But ev'rywhere looks old and bare while trav'ling on the plain.
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There's no-one rides this road with me, a plainsman rides alone.
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The welcome waits by a city gate, no voice to call me home.
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Alone I came into this place, and that is how I will go
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And all I learn is the season's turn, that's all I need to know.
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Oh the world is hung with silver tongues wiht good advice to give.
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If you can't show me how to die, don't tell me how to live.
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The plainsman's song, though it's seldom long, it's more than meets the ear
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And all I believe is the falling leaves at the turning of the year.
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The Plainsman
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Sandy Denny |