Across my evening sky
The last bird was leaving
But then you knew
The storms of Winter had set in

I do not count the time
But thirty years has passed
Slightly less than your age
And it was time for you to go

You knew your love was not near you
Antipodean beach somewhere
Your heart, your daughter torn from you
Never knowing when they will return

And now at this late hour
You are so far away
Much farther than our islands
And your own lonely Fotheringay

My roving troubadour and minstrel
Hey that’s no way to say goodbye
You wrote your own autopsy?
No-ones owning what you see

Who knows where you go
Our friend our late night guest
As we sat round in candelit rooms
With an empty place reserved for you at table

In the summer I sat
Shivering as by Winter fire
Wondering where my fickle friends were
They knew it was time for them to go

Farewell, farewell I know you can hear
You lonely traveller you
The cold north wind it blows again
The winding road calls you

I lent you my time, I still philosophise
And still I bore people to tears
Yes I’m still red around the eyes
I tell them things no-one else hears

I am still here where I was
I have no thought of leaving
Your old cruel
Rain and the Wind

I stopped counting the time
When you left us
Crying my hours
Into years

And yes I still whistle the simplest of tunes
And beg the wild woods their pardon
For my true love is blown into every flower grown
And I still curate the garden

And if you ever should look for me
In body you’ll not me find
But my castle awaits your prescence
Inquire for Reynardine

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