"ANON"

          There's no name on the stone I sleep under today
          There's no book that can tell of my time
          But you know me so well when you sing roundelay
          For you're singing my tune and my rhyme
          I am "Anon", you know me that way
          I had something to say about life in my day
          So I made a song and somewhere the sound of it
          goes round and round, to be lost and then found
          And that is the way that life is
          That is the way it is with songs
         
          It was in the alehouse, I would sing with the rest
          then I made up a tune of my own
          And a full harvest moon put the words in my head
          As I trudged 'cross the fields to my home
          When I sang it next day, my friends asked me how
          Did I find my own song in the blade of my plough
          So I asked in return how the stonemason saw
          A sweet face in the stone on the old quarry floor
          They asked "Is that the way that it is?"
          I said "That is the way it is for me."

          So they learned every word and they sang every note
          Till my song was a work of renown
          And within a six month I heard boys from the school
          Whistling my tune in the town
            And I smiled when I heard what came out of the sky
          coming now from a child as he quickly ran by
          Would it pass from that child, when as father he'd sing
            To a child of his own? Who'd believe such a thing
            But that is the way that life is
            That is the way it is with time

          It was 20 years gone, when our parson came home
          From a journey he'd made far away
          He shook my hand hard, said the inn where he'd stayed
          Had some men who sang there every day
          And he'd listened with joy as one, with a bow
          sang the song that I'd found in the blade of my plough
                So he told them my name,but they said that my song
          Was as old as the hills, and our parson was wrong
                  I asked "Is that the way that life is?"
          He said, "That is the way it is my son."

    So I planted and ploughed till my bones bowed and bent
         I made up no more verses to sing
          And it seemed that my life had been wasted and spent
    on the curses my hard days would bring
    Soon death came to call with a voice that cried "Now!"
    And the song that I'd found in the blade of my plough
    Leaped from my heart as I journeyed on
    And I knew it would live even though I was gone
    And that is the way that life is
      That is the way it is for us all

    There's no names on the stones we sleep under today
      There's no books that can tell of our time
       But you know us so well when you sing roundelay
       For your singing our tune and our rhyme
      We are "Anon", you know us that way
      We had something to say about life in our day
      So we made our songs, and somewhere the sound of them
      Goes round and round to be lost and then found
      And that is the way that life is
      That is the way it is with songs