When the wagons leave the city
for the forest, and further on
Painted wagons of the morning
dusty roads where they have gone
Sometimes travelling through the darkness
met the summer coming home
Fallen faces by the wayside
Looked as if they might have known
O the sun was in their eyes
and the desert that dries<r /> In the country towns
where the laughter sounds

O the dancing and the singing
O the music when they played
O the fires that they started
O the girs with no regret
Sometimes they found it
Sometimes they kept it
Often lost it on the way
Fought each other to possess it
Sometimes died in sight of day