BLACKBIRD
(sung by Gordon Bok)

Blackbird, Blackbird, flyin' late,
Grease in the pot and ash in the grate,
They barred the door and they shut the gate, they got no place for me,
The bottles empty, my head is sore,
I don't know where I've been before,
Bar your gate and shut the door, the Blackbirds flyin' free.

Where have I been to, I don't know,
Broken fiddle and crooked bow,
Holes in my shoes and I'm walkin' slow,
As the last long shadows fall,
The boat I sailed laid down in the tide,
The horse I stole got lame and died,
I don't need a friend and I don't want a bride,
The Blackbird knows it all.

What's this song the Blackbird hears,
I sowed my days and reaped my years,
A basket of sins and a bucket of tears,
And I can't come in to stay,
My life's a tale that I don't tell,
I did my worst and I did it well,
I never got to heaven but I stayed out of hell,
And still I'm on my way.

Where am I goin' to sleep tonight,
I can't turn left, and I won't turn right,
Where the road goes on in the cold moonlight,
And the lonely Blackbird cries,
I'm 'gonna lie in a lonely bed,
With white and whiter linen spread,
A cold grey stone at my foot and head,
And pennies on my eyes.