In the quiet misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red,
When the summer s ceased its gleaming, when the corn is past its prime,
When adventure s lost its meaning, I ll be homeward bound in time.
Bind me not to the pasture. Chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I ll return to you somehow.
If you find it s me you re missing, if you re hoping I ll return,
To your thought I ll soon be list ning; in the road I ll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end,
And the path I ll be retracing when I m homeward bound again.
Bind me not to the pasture. Chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I ll return to you somehow.
In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing, I ll be homeward bound again.
