In the quiet, misty morning,
When the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing
An d 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 plough,
Set me free to find my calling,
And I'll return to you some
how.
If you find it's me you're missing,
if you're hoping I'll return
To your thoughts I'll soon be listening
And in the road I'll stop and turn
Then the wind will set me racing
As my journey nears it s end
And the path I'll be retracing
As I'm homeward bound again
Then 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.
Bind me not to the pasture,
chain me not to the plough, 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,
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