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HOME FROM THE FOREST Gordon Lightfoot 1967 Oh the neon lights were flashing and the icy wind did blow The water seeped into his shoes and the drizzle turned to snow. His eyes were red, his hopes were dead and the wine was running low And the old man came home from the forest. His tears fell on the sidewalk as he stumbled in the street A dozen faces stopped to stare but no one stopped to speak For his castle was a hallway and the bottle was his friend And the old man stumbled in from the forest. Up a dark and dingy staircase the old man made his way His ragged coat around him as upon his cot he lay And he wondered how it happened that he ended up this way Getting lost like a fool in the forest. And as he lay there sleeping a vision did appear Upon his mantle shining a face of one so dear Who had loved him in the springtime of a long forgotten year When the wildflowers did bloom in the forest. She touched his grizzled fingers and she called him by his name And then he heard the joyful sound of children at their games In an old house on a hillside in some forgotten town Where the river runs down from the forest. With a mighty roar the big jet soars above the canyon streets And the con men con but life goes on for the city never sleeps And to an old forgotten soldier the dawn will come no more For the old man has come home from the forest. (Transcribed by David Story - February 2013)

    


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