THE SAME OLD LUREBY BERTON BRALEY
BY BERTON BRALEY
WHENwest winds blow,I want to goWhere mountain-peaks are wrapped in snow,And breathe the airThat thrills you thereWith strength to do and nerve to dare!When west winds call,I hate it all—This life of petty things and small!And I have criedAgain to rideWhere sun is clear and plains are wide.When west winds sighAt night, I lieAnd dream of careless days gone by.(To hear me blow,You’d never knowI’d not been west of Cleveland, O.)
WHENwest winds blow,I want to goWhere mountain-peaks are wrapped in snow,And breathe the airThat thrills you thereWith strength to do and nerve to dare!When west winds call,I hate it all—This life of petty things and small!And I have criedAgain to rideWhere sun is clear and plains are wide.When west winds sighAt night, I lieAnd dream of careless days gone by.(To hear me blow,You’d never knowI’d not been west of Cleveland, O.)
WHENwest winds blow,I want to goWhere mountain-peaks are wrapped in snow,And breathe the airThat thrills you thereWith strength to do and nerve to dare!
WHENwest winds blow,
I want to go
Where mountain-peaks are wrapped in snow,
And breathe the air
That thrills you there
With strength to do and nerve to dare!
When west winds call,I hate it all—This life of petty things and small!And I have criedAgain to rideWhere sun is clear and plains are wide.
When west winds call,
I hate it all—
This life of petty things and small!
And I have cried
Again to ride
Where sun is clear and plains are wide.
When west winds sighAt night, I lieAnd dream of careless days gone by.(To hear me blow,You’d never knowI’d not been west of Cleveland, O.)
When west winds sigh
At night, I lie
And dream of careless days gone by.
(To hear me blow,
You’d never know
I’d not been west of Cleveland, O.)