October 2005
(The Earthquake in Pakistan)
The massive blunders evoke the massive waves,
Of wrath that push the inhabitants to the graves;
The faults of kings fall upon the heads of subjects,
The cottages and the palaces, their ferocity raves.
Ah! What a horrible devastation eyes have seen,
The sepulchral cries shook the spheres between,
The earth, and sky; the nation has no stock of tears,
To make the pangs wash, to make the breasts clean.
The villages, the towns, the cities have been raved,
Preyed upon; ravaged and razed as the Will craved,
They have become an extended theatre of tragedies,
Time differs not, ripe or unripe, paved or unpaved.
The valleys, the green slopes and the rising peaks,
Where upon the life laughed with the shining cheeks,
And smiled with the sweet curves upon the rosy lips,
How sooner laughter changed into inaudible shrieks!
Ah! What terrible deaths occurred under the heaps,
Unendurable weights made sudden ferocious leaps,
The beams on legs, pillars on heads, earth in mouths,
How hastily they all moved to the black dismal deeps!
Humanity neither has enough waters in the eyes,
To meet the magnitude of calamity; in the breast sighs,
To consume pangs, and overflowing bereavement,
Nor rains have mourning drops reserved in the skies.
Oh! Mansehra, Balakot and Bagh, cities of the land,
Blood of your sons and daughters have made grand,
Each plain, each valley, each hill and each mountain,
Your dust, your rocks, your waters and your sand.
On your fate Nature Herself will ceaselessly lament,
Each year snowy flakes will fall to weep and repent,
The trickling tears will form ponds, rills and rivers,
Each year nightingales will sing elegies on the event.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
In The Perspective Of Tsunami
What a massive calamity leapt on you!
All around is the clattering doom,
How many corpses are lying coffinless!
The wailings cries and shrieks are gagged,
At the source they emerged wherefrom.
What a water it is of the shore!
Whose each mighty wave claims heavy toll.
It is such a typhoon submarine,
That shakes, shatters the rocks.
Ah! Life has slept with such a tranquility,
That the earth itself weeps embracing,
Its own rotundity.
Cries, shrieks the existence of nights,
The pangs of hapless life are expressed,
In the wheezing eyes on each countenance,
And the dreams bloats on the watery surface.
What a massive calamity leapt on you!
All around is the clattering doom,
How many corpses are lying coffinless!
The wailings cries and shrieks are gagged,
At the source they emerged wherefrom.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ascent To The Sierras
Beyond the great valley an odd instinctive rising
Begins to possess the ground, the flatness gathers
to little humps and
barrows, low aimless ridges,
A sudden violence of rock crowns them. The crowded
orchards end, they
have come to a stone knife;
The farms are finished; the sudden foot of the
slerra. Hill over hill,
snow-ridge beyond mountain gather
The blue air of their height about them.
Here at the foot of the pass
The fierce clans of the mountain you'd think for
thousands of years,
Men with harsh mouths and eyes like the eagles' hunger,
Have gathered among these rocks at the dead hour
Of the morning star and the stars waning
To raid the plain and at moonrise returning driven
Their scared booty to the highlands, the tossing horns
And glazed eyes in the light of torches. The men have
looked back
Standing above these rock-heads to bark laughter
At the burning granaries and the farms and the town
That sow the dark flat land with terrible rubies...
lighting the dead...
It is not true: from this land
The curse was lifted; the highlands have kept peace
with the valleys; no
blood in the sod; there is no old sword
Keeping grim rust, no primal sorrow. The people are
all one people, their
homes never knew harrying;
The tribes before them were acorn-eaters, harmless
as deer. Oh, fortunate
earth; you must find someone
To make you bitter music; how else will you take bonds
of the future,
against the wolf in men's hearts?
Submitted by Holt
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rain drops fall from heaven
Tears swelling up in my eyes every night
Rain drops fall from heaven
Simply a walking disguise in the light
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wondering when i will be alright
Rain drops fall from heaven
Growing so weak no energy to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Losing all hope in my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing that i could simply unwind
Rain drops fall from heaven
As time goes love makes me blind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i didn't have to leave her behind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wanting to make everything right
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could see her in sight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing I had the strength to fight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i could hold her tight
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never knowing if she remembers me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Never know if we were meant to be
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i had more time to see
Rain drops fall from heaven
My family that always loved me
Rain drops fall from heaven
Thinking back to the times we had
Rain drops fall from heaven
Smiles and laughter but yet so sad
Rain drops fall from heaven
Just sitting here all alone
Rain drops fall from heaven
Wishing i was way back home
Rain drops fall from heaven
Now the only thing that is on my mind
Rain drops fall from heaven
Is the memories i have way back in time
Rain drops fall from heaven
The tears from my eyes and deep inside
Rain drops fall from heaven
Matches the drops that come from the sky
Rain drops fall from heaven
If you could even begin to wonder why
Rain drops fall from heaven
It is simply those tears from lies
Rain drops fall from heaven
Every time it rains i stare to the clouds
Rain drops fall from heaven
Hoping one day she will simply fall
Rain drops fall from heaven
Right into my arms where she belongs
Rain drops fall from heaven
So that i can sing her a song
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that tells her how i feel
Rain drops fall from heaven
A song that is nothing but real
Rain drops fall from heaven
That will be the day that will bring me joy
Rain drops fall from heaven
Too bad it wont happen to this boy
Rain drops fall from my eyes 24/7
poem by Joshua Thomas Gage
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mary Magdalene II
People clean their homes before the feast.
Stepping from the bustle of the street
I go down before Thee on my knees
And anoint with myrrh Thy holy feet.
Groping round, I cannot find the shoes
For the tears that well up with my sighs.
My impatient tresses, breaking loose,
Like a pall hang thick before my eyes.
I take up Thy feet onto my lap,
Wash them clean with hot tears from my eyes,
In my hair Thy precious feet I wrap,
And my string of pearls around them tie.
I now see the future in detail,
As if it were stopped in flight by Thee.
Like a raving sibyl, I could tell
What will happen, how it will all be.
In the temple, veils will fall tomorrow,
We shall form a frightened group apart,
And the earth will shake-perhaps from sorrow
And from pity for my tortured heart.
Troops will then reform and march away
To the thud of hoofs and heavy tread,
And the cross will reach towards the sky
Like a water-spout above our heads.
By the cross, I'll fall down on the ground,
I shall bite my lips till I draw blood.
On the cross, your arms will be spread out-
Wide enough to hug the whole wide world.
Who's this for, this glory and this strife?
Who's this for, this torment and this might?
Are there enough souls on earth, and lives?
Are there enough cities, dales and heights?
But three days-such days and nights will pass-
They will fill me with such crushing dread
That I'll see the joyous truth, at last:
I shall know Christ will rise from the dead.
poem by Boris Pasternak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Forgotten Dead, I Salute You
Dawn has flashed up the startled skies,
Night has gone out beneath the hill
Many sweet times; before our eyes
Dawn makes and unmakes about us still
The magic that we call the rose.
The gentle history of the rain
Has been unfolded, traced and lost
By the sharp finger-tips of frost;
Birds in the hawthorn build again;
The hare makes soft her secret house;
The wind at tourney comes and goes,
Spurring the green, unharnessed boughs;
The moon has waxed fierce and waned dim:
He knew the beauty of all those
Last year, and who remembers him?
Love sometimes walks the waters still,
Laughter throws back her radiant head;
Utterly beauty is not gone,
And wonder is not wholly dead.
The starry, mortal world rolls on;
Between sweet sounds and silences,
With new, strange wines her beakers brim:
He lost his heritage with these
Last year, and who remembers him?
None remember him: he lies
In earth of some strange-sounding place,
Nameless beneath the nameless skies,
The wind his only chant, the rain
The only tears upon his face;
Far and forgotten utterly
By living man. Yet such as he
Have made it possible and sure
For other lives to have, to be;
For men to sleep content, secure.
Lip touches lip and eyes meet eyes
Because his heart beats not again:
His rotting, fruitless body lies
That sons may grow from other men.
He gave, as Christ, the life he hadÑ
The only life desired or known;
The great, sad sacrifice was made
For strangers; this forgotten dead
Went out into the night alone.
There was his body broken for you,
There was his blood divinely shed
That in the earth lie lost and dim.
Eat, drink, and often as you do,
For whom he died, remember him.
poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lost Baby Poem
the time i dropped your almost body down
down to meet the waters under the city
and run one with the sewage to the sea
what did i know about waters rushing back
what did i know about drowning
or being drowned
you would have been born in winter
in the year of the disconnected gas
and no car
we would have made the thin walk
over the genecy hill into the canada winds
to let you slip into a stranger's hands
if you were here i could tell you
these and some other things
and if i am ever less than a mountain
for your definite brothers and sisters
let the rivers wash over my head
let the sea take me for a spiller of seas
let black men call me stranger always
for your never named sake
poem by Lucille Clifton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Old Mother Smiled
Now the spheres are sooty sable,
Man has adulterated Nature with His murky works,
Black rains pour down from the heavy clouds,
And rain-drops fall down not to wash
But to discolour and deform us more,
To broaden blackness on the surface of the Earth,
The downpour seems to be
The harvest of our own transgressions.
Ah! I remember the time of my childhood,
When polluted contents
Had not enveloped yet rotundity of the Earth.
In summer and spring times often after the rainfall,
When the skies around the Ball became too clear,
I felt enclosed in a huge transparent multicolour globe,
And discovered the rainbow in the sky.
While standing on the Earth I imagined,
The Old Mother of humanity oscillating with full splendour
On the swing made of ropes of seven colours,
Smiling on contentment of the children underneath.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Graves Of Infants
Infant' graves are steps of angels, where
Earth's brightest gems of innocence repose.
God is their parent, and they need no tear;
He takes them to His bosom from earth's woes,
A bud their lifetime and a flower their close.
Their spirits are an Iris of the skies,
Needing no prayers; a sunset's happy close.
Gone are the bright rays of their soft blue eyes;
Flowers weep in dew-drops oer them, and the gale gently sighs
Their lives were nothing but a sunny shower,
Melting on flowers as tears melt from the eye.
Their deaths were dew-drops on Heaven's amaranth bower,
And tolled on flowers as Summer gales went by.
They bowed and trembled, and they left no sigh,
And the sun smiled to show their end was well.
Infants have nought to weep for ere they die;
All prayers are needless, beads they need not tell,
White flowers their mourners are, Nature their passing bell.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
4 The Tears In Your Eyes (live) (feat. Wendy & Lisa)
4 the Tears in Your Eyes [Controversy Music, ASCAP - 1985]
------------------------ [From "We Are the World"]
Long ago, there was a man
Could change stone to bread
With one touch of his hand
Made the blind see
And the dumb understand
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Many people came from all around
To hear this man preach
The glorious sound
He spoke of man in harmony, and love abound
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
Faith is word, we all should try
In describing a man
Who willingly died
Believe that your sorrow, hunger, and fears
Is less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
(your eyes) (your eyes)
Less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Eternal Forests
Fate circles the moon of desire
We are the earth circling time
Her kiss has rivers with deer
Eagles fly over cliffs of granite
Lovers of ember centuries
Past the tears past the fears
The thunder of buffalo herds
Mountain streams like Eden
No armies or galleons
Oak grow as the mighty wind
Our bed has ancestry
Lovers share their dreams
When the land was open
No signs, no ownership
Meadows of stars shine
We are the future laughter
We are the dreams of warriors
They know they must die
They know they must be brave
Feel them in your bright kiss
Passion filled with battles
Feel their canoes along the waters
Your arms are their arms
Kiss your warriors that stand
They are dying for a way of life
Their blood cries from sacred ground
Your eyes like doves
Your dreams of fire and broken arrows
Hold me like a shaman of stolen land
Share your joy and sorrow
Ghost of sweet streams and feathers
Making love by quiet rivers
Warriors that once blessed the sky
The legions come with their chains
They bring reservations
They bring peace treatise with broken tongues
Love me on this hot bed of soul
The night has ancient eyes
Hear the wind bring tears of Cochise
See the shadows like war dances
See the broken wings of the hawk
We must kiss the future when morning rules
We must remember all their visions
Love is a circle of great seasons
Blend into me like a thousand full moons
Tecumseh sighs in the Ohio valley
Make them move west until they are gone
My love the land cries in your heart
These braves of the new world
Panther in the sky
Trail of tears in your loving thighs
We love in hidden valleys and cold mountains
Sacred burial grounds whisper
Let me hold your warrior soul
I am your lover here and now yet pierced
We are ancient lovers waiting for eternal forests
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oahu
Here on this island, summer never sleeps.
In the green valleys, smoke in cane-time drifts
With mist—frail tide that laps the chasmed deeps
Between the steep clean hills as the sea-tide
Once washed the silent hidden hollow rifts
And unseen valleys of its unborn bride.
Sea-bride, child of earth’s red molten womb,
Daughter of fire and chaos long since sleeping,
Who were the people that made your green hills bloom?
Wedded to the seas they were, like you;
From the dark sea, while you your watch were keeping,
They came to make their destined rendezvous.
The broad bare feet step forth on virgin sand,
And eyes raise to the green eternal hills:
Gray mist, green hills and fertile red-clay land,
Alone no more. The carefree caroling laughter
Drifts inland, where valley mist distills
The songs that shall be sung forever after.
poem by S.J. Fulton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And the Greatest of These Is War
Around the council-board of Hell, with Satan at their head,
The Three Great Scourges of humanity sat.
Gaunt Famine, with hollow cheek and voice, arose and spoke,—
'O, Prince, I have stalked the earth,
And my victims by ten thousands I have slain,
I have smitten old and young.
Mouths of the helpless old moaning for bread, I have filled with dust;
And I have laughed to see a crying babe tug at the shriveling breast
Of its mother, dead and cold.
I have heard the cries and prayers of men go up to a tearless sky,
And fall back upon an earth of ashes;
But, heedless, I have gone on with my work.
'Tis thus, O, Prince, that I have scourged mankind.'
And Satan nodded his head.
Pale Pestilence, with stenchful breath, then spoke and said, —
'Great Prince, my brother, Famine, attacks the poor.
Page 38
He is most terrible against the helpless and the old.
But I have made a charnel-house of the mightiest cities of men.
When I strike, neither their stores of gold or of grain avail.
With a breath I lay low their strongest, and wither up their fairest.
I come upon them without warning, lancing invisible death.
From me they flee with eyes and mouths distended;
I poison the air for which they gasp, and I strike them down fleeing.
'Tis thus, great Prince, that I have scourged mankind.'
And Satan nodded his head.
Then the red monster, War, rose up and spoke,—
His blood-shot eyes glared 'round him, and his thundering voice
Echoed through the murky vaults of Hell. —
'O, mighty Prince, my brothers, Famine and Pestilence,
Have slain their thousands and ten thousands,— true;
But the greater their victories have been,
The more have they wakened in Man's breast
The God-like attributes of sympathy, of brotherhood and love
And made of him a searcher after wisdom.
But I arouse in Man the demon and the brute,
I plant black hatred in his heart and red revenge.
From the summit of fifty thousand years of upward climb
I haul him down to the level of the start, back to the wolf.
I give him claws.
I set his teeth into his brother's throat.
I make him drunk with his brother's blood.
And I laugh ho! ho! while he destroys himself.
O, mighty Prince, not only do I slay,
But I draw Man hellward.'
And Satan smiled, stretched out his hand, and said, —
'O War, of all the scourges of humanity, I crown you chief.'
And Hell rang with the acclamation of the Fiends.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Heart Attack (a Sestina)
What angelic chorals sing?
These messengers of heaven
Whose words are none of earth
Rising like mists amid the mountains
Rolling down to pastoral valleys
Stirring my fragile heart
My sullen, throbbing heart
Mumbling, for it can't quite sing
Its beat more full of valleys
Than peaks toward heaven
I miss those tracings in the shape of mountains
Which anchor me to this earth
Sweet, sweet earth
How you fill my heart!
Your noble, snowy mountains
Rising proudly to sing
At the feet of heaven
I long to see your valleys
To lay again in flowered valleys
Smelling the rich, black earth
Of my own personal heaven
Heal you traitorous heart!
I long to shout, to sing
Echoing from the mountains
Where are my mountains?
My rolling valleys?
The monitor, its dirge to sing
Strengthening my tether to earth
Even as my woefully tired heart
Slips to heaven
To forestall heaven
I labor to move mountains
As a constellation of disks record my heart
Etching flat valleys
Confirming i am still of this earth
With only a beep to mournfully sing
Each lull-to heaven, then up from the valleys
Drawn back to mountains and earth
As I wait for my heart to once again sing
poem by John Christensen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Complaining Cries
The gushing blows of the future wind,
Bring echoes of the distant voices,
Complaining Cries of the descendants,
Against muddling refined pure nature,
The wailings disturb my sleep at night,
As the ghosts haunt one in dreams,
Bring the dews of anguish on the forehead
And make me old ere the age ripe.
“Oh! Fathers, grandfathers, forefathers,
What heritance we have been bestowed?
Is it a world, God made a thing fair,
Where find we drab treeless mountains,
And clouds dropp black sooty rains,
Waters all around and underneath,
Pungent, too smelly, hard to take,
Futile lands, eroded seas, smoky spheres,
And singed surface remind us Inferno? ”
“Ah! Cool breeze, snow clad peaks,
White flakes of clouds, starry nights,
Glimmering lakes with the shadow of moon,
Smokeless airs, clear trickling founts,
Spectacles of covered green hills,
Sweet songs of the birds melodious,
And blooming spring were the things of past.”
“Oh! Fathers, let it be revealed to us,
Why are we for the wrongs undone,
Being punished in the zones of Hell.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Land of snow
I dreamt of a land, a land so high,
A land of snow which touches the sky,
Where the rivers are born, and torn apart
To wash the sins of many eyes.
On the snowy hill, where the waters chilled,
Would touch my lips, have my thirst killed,
I sit and bite on the blowing wind
And have in me some snow filled.
The dream broke with a sudden blow,
Oh! An upheavel on the top floor,
I get off my bed and wet my face,
And walk on my land of no snow.
poem by Shouvik Roy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Implications Of Fukushima Nuclear Disaster
radiation not lost
upon an entire ocean
ocean can no longer
separate sovereign nations
from massive meltdowns
at nuclear power plants
key is prevailing wind
wind carried radiation
sweeping across seas
sweeping around planet
high atmospheric death
ready to ripe rain down
ruining day week year
ruining happy party plans
radiation might blow
into quiet neighbourhood
Fukushima Dai-ichi
is problem pending global
major earthquake fault
massive overdue quake
like San Andreas Fault
magnitude 7 or greater
deadly tsunami earthquake
not an if but when
situation four reactors
sitting on Pacific Ocean
near earthquake faults
both located in similar
Japanese nightmare
scenario type zones
time to build reinforced
back up coolant bunkers
before tsunami earthquake
hits beware countdown
time is critical nature rules
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Loves.
Love follows her,
when engulfs her
the pondered hatred,
he gives out
from her sowed poison.
Green Earth's greenness,
can't give rest to
the green eyes' wrath.
She takes the axe,
but before cutting its
branches she dies
thousand deaths.
Axe lies on jobless ground.
Drops of water,
rains from her
spellbound pairs
of crystal ponds.
For the second time,
she starts loving him.
poem by Debdarshana Sen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nature, whose sweet rains fall of just and unjust alike, will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undetected. She will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.
Oscar Wilde in De Profundis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Barbury Camp
We burrowed night and day with tools of lead,
Heaped the bank up and cast it in a ring
And hurled the earth above. And Caesar said,
"Why, it is excellent. I like the thing."
We, who are dead,
Made it, and wrought, and Caesar liked the thing.
And here we strove, and here we felt each vein
Ice-bound, each limb fast-frozen, all night long.
And here we held communion with the rain
That lashed us into manhood with its thong,
Cleansing through pain.
And the wind visited us and made us strong.
Up from around us, numbers without name,
Strong men and naked, vast, on either hand
Pressing us in, they came. And the wind came
And bitter rain, turning grey all the land.
That was our game,
To fight with men and storms, and it was grand.
For many days we fought them, and our sweat
Watered the grass, making it spring up green,
Blooming for us. And, if the wind was wet,
Our blood wetted the wind, making it keen
With the hatred
And wrath and courage that our blood had been.
So, fighting men and winds and tempests, hot
With joy and hate and battle-lust, we fell
Where we fought. And God said, "Killed at last then? What!
Ye that are too strong for heaven, too clean for hell,
(God said) stir not.
This be your heaven, or, if ye will, your hell."
So again we fight and wrestle, and again
Hurl the earth up and cast it in a ring.
But when the wind comes up, driving the rain
(Each rain-drop a fiery steed), and the mists rolling
Up from the plain,
This wild procession, this impetuous thing.
Hold us amazed. We mount the wind-cars, then
Whip up the steeds and drive through all the world,
Searching to find somewhere some brethren,
Sons of the winds and waters of the world.
We, who were men,
Have sought, and found no men in all this world.
Wind, that has blown here always ceaselessly,
Bringing, if any man can understand,
Might to the mighty, freedom to the free;
Wind, that has caught us, cleansed us, made us grand,
Wind that is we
(We that were men) -- make men in all this land,
That so may live and wrestle and hate that when
They fall at last exultant, as we fell,
And come to God, God may say, "Do you come then
Mildly enquiring, is it heaven or hell?
Why! Ye were men!
Back to your winds and rains. Be these your heaven and hell!"
poem by Charles Hamilton Sorley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mountains And Marian
All is well
I've made my peace where highways never end
Yesterday's a memory today is just a friend
For the mountains and Maryann are calling me again
And the red pines will bow their heads
The rivers and the watersheds will swallow up my tears
All is well
I left the cold midwestern towns behind
There's a semi up the road ahead I'll take him in my time
For the hot-blooded mountain love is calling me again
And the vagabond within me cries
The wind and rain might burn my eyes but I won't feel the pain
For the mountains and Maryann will greet me there as only she can do
All is well
As I swing up to the border bent for hell
And the service station man agreed I didn't look too well
But the mountains and Maryann are calling out to me
And I got my bedroll on my back
And everything that I could pack to see me on my way
All is well
I've made my peace and man, I'm feelin' fine
And the losers that I left behind I'll think about some other time
For the border men were all my friends they couldn't find a dime
And the prairie towns go sailing by
Saskatchewan there's mud in your eye I'm leavin' you behind
There'll be hot-blooded mountain love to satisfy my soul
And the red pines will bow their heads
The rivers and the watersheds will carry us along
And the mountains and Maryann will greet me there as only she can do
All is well
The foothills are coming into sight
Today is just a memory the future is tonight
And the red pines will bow their heads
The rivers and the watersheds will carry us along
And the mountains and Maryann will greet me there as only she can do
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!