It’s been a long time since I heard
That oft-remembered homestead on the farm,
When I spent so many hours
Being wary of the flowers
For fear that they might try and do me harm [yeah]
In days when I could clearly see,
When I was young and really free,
Upon that misty mountain of my youth,
When life was viewed in bluey-green
And Cheryl and sweet Josephine
Both did their best to teach to me the truth.
The time of course has long since gone
Since Louisa rode her horse upon
The track that travels up to Whiteleaf Cross.
Her ghost still rides out to this day
Around deserted Place Farm Way,
Now overgrown with dandelions and moss.
It’s hard to dream up stupid rhymes
While living in these trying times,
Its murder, man, but I’m still a believer,
My mind just keeps on pondering,
Like a gypsy, it keeps wandering,
I might as well be living in Geneva.
That oft-remembered homestead on the farm,
When I spent so many hours
Being wary of the flowers
For fear that they might try and do me harm [yeah]
In days when I could clearly see,
When I was young and really free,
Upon that misty mountain of my youth,
When life was viewed in bluey-green
And Cheryl and sweet Josephine
Both did their best to teach to me the truth.
The time of course has long since gone
Since Louisa rode her horse upon
The track that travels up to Whiteleaf Cross.
Her ghost still rides out to this day
Around deserted Place Farm Way,
Now overgrown with dandelions and moss.
It’s hard to dream up stupid rhymes
While living in these trying times,
Its murder, man, but I’m still a believer,
My mind just keeps on pondering,
Like a gypsy, it keeps wandering,
I might as well be living in Geneva.
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