I`ll Be Gone — текст песни (Harlan Howard)

When the quiet evening comes,
And the village softly lies
Twinkling in the shadow of the mountain;
When the twilight`s muffled drums
Play tattoos to the skies
And the heavens close their eyes
I`ll be gone.

When the fisher folds his net,
Makes his craft secure
And gazes to the west for signs of weather;
When he thinks of his table set
His children at the door,
As he plods along the shore
I`ll be gone.

When the merchant draws his shade,
Counts the day`s receipts
And smiles recalling bits of idle gossip;
When the entries all are made
In the ledger`s tidy sheets,
As he shuffles down the streets
I`ll be gone.

`Tis pretty, but `tis chains,
And I must be free
So fare thee well ye full contented fellow.
No quiet life for me,
No home no family,
Now and endlessly,
I`ll be gone.