Follow me across the country:
the horse that pulls the plough.
Seasons shall reveal their mystery
while ever years allow.
Sailors speedily to safety
skylarks haply back to earth
and the hours passed lacking love
now shall they find rebirth.
For the morn becomes the evening
where country meets the town
and the fields where lay our memories
will never let us down.

Follow me, free of the traces now,
into yon' sheltered wood.
All the sights we'll find will show us how
to recognise the good.
In the dream where all is easy
and the dream where one is free
give this hour to study love
and teach the eye to see.
At the stile I meet with you again
the ravens fly away
and we walk content in company
together on the way.