Songs Of Travel: No. 7, Whither Must I Wander?

Home, no more home to me
With the bus I wander
Hunger my driver
I go where I must
Cold blows the winter wind
Over hill and heather
Thick drives the rain
And my roof is in the dust
Laughed of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree
A true word of welcome was spoken in the door
Dear days of old
With the faces in the forelight
Kind folks of old
You come again no more
Home was home then, my dear
Full of kindly faces
Home was home then, my dear
Happy for the child
Fire, and the windows bright
Glittered on the moorland
Song, tuneful song
Built a palace in the wild
Now when day dawns on the brow of the moorland
Lone stands the house
And the chimney-stone is cold
Lone let it stand now
The friends are all deported
The kind hearts, the true hearts
That loved the place of old
Spring shall come, come again
Calling up the moorfowl
Spring shall bring the sun and rain
Bring the bees and flowers
Red shall the heather bloom
Over hill and valley
Soft flow the stream
Through the even-flowing hours
Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood
Fair shine the day on the house with open door
Birds come and cry there
And twitter in the chimney
But I go for ever
And come again no more