AFTER LONG WANDERING

I willgo back to Gloucestershire,To the spot where I was born,To the talk at eve with men and womenAnd song on the roads at morn.And I’ll sing as I tramp by dusty hedgesOr drink my ale in the shadeHow Gloucestershire is the finest homeThat the Lord God ever made.First I will go to the ancient houseWhere Doomsday book was planned,And cool my body and soul in shadeOf pillars huge which standWhere the organ echoes thunder-likeIts paean of triumph and praiseIn a temple lovely as ever the loveOf Beauty’s God did raise.Gargoyles will thrust out heads to hearken,A frozen forest of stoneEcho behind me as I passOut of the shadow aloneTo buzz and bustle of Barton FairAnd its drifting droves of sheep,To find three miles away the villageWhere I will sleep.Minsterworth, queen of riverside places(Save Framilode, who can vie?),To her I’ll go when day has dwindledAnd the light low in the sky;And my troubles shall fall from me, a bundle,And youth come back again,Seeing the smoke of her houses and hearingThe talk of Minsterworth men.I’ll drink my perry and sing my songOf home and home again,Pierced with the old miraculous pleasureKeen as sharpest pain;And if I rise to sing on the morrowOr if I die in my bed,’Tis all the same: I’ll be home again,And happy alive or dead.

I willgo back to Gloucestershire,

To the spot where I was born,

To the talk at eve with men and women

And song on the roads at morn.

And I’ll sing as I tramp by dusty hedges

Or drink my ale in the shade

How Gloucestershire is the finest home

That the Lord God ever made.

First I will go to the ancient houseWhere Doomsday book was planned,And cool my body and soul in shadeOf pillars huge which standWhere the organ echoes thunder-likeIts paean of triumph and praiseIn a temple lovely as ever the loveOf Beauty’s God did raise.

First I will go to the ancient house

Where Doomsday book was planned,

And cool my body and soul in shade

Of pillars huge which stand

Where the organ echoes thunder-like

Its paean of triumph and praise

In a temple lovely as ever the love

Of Beauty’s God did raise.

Gargoyles will thrust out heads to hearken,A frozen forest of stoneEcho behind me as I passOut of the shadow aloneTo buzz and bustle of Barton FairAnd its drifting droves of sheep,To find three miles away the villageWhere I will sleep.

Gargoyles will thrust out heads to hearken,

A frozen forest of stone

Echo behind me as I pass

Out of the shadow alone

To buzz and bustle of Barton Fair

And its drifting droves of sheep,

To find three miles away the village

Where I will sleep.

Minsterworth, queen of riverside places(Save Framilode, who can vie?),To her I’ll go when day has dwindledAnd the light low in the sky;And my troubles shall fall from me, a bundle,And youth come back again,Seeing the smoke of her houses and hearingThe talk of Minsterworth men.

Minsterworth, queen of riverside places

(Save Framilode, who can vie?),

To her I’ll go when day has dwindled

And the light low in the sky;

And my troubles shall fall from me, a bundle,

And youth come back again,

Seeing the smoke of her houses and hearing

The talk of Minsterworth men.

I’ll drink my perry and sing my songOf home and home again,Pierced with the old miraculous pleasureKeen as sharpest pain;And if I rise to sing on the morrowOr if I die in my bed,’Tis all the same: I’ll be home again,And happy alive or dead.

I’ll drink my perry and sing my song

Of home and home again,

Pierced with the old miraculous pleasure

Keen as sharpest pain;

And if I rise to sing on the morrow

Or if I die in my bed,

’Tis all the same: I’ll be home again,

And happy alive or dead.

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