Born in your town on this young morning   oh certainly I have good luck coming   sadly sadly have I mourned making heavy my burden   such toils to entwine me   no more to endure them      A lover is to me she is my companion   six strings at my hand to the morning I tuned them   oh warm room I have and a warm place for sleeping   black coffee to waken me   no more to be dreaming      The wings of the albatross long since I saw him   the hair of the goats as they walk to the island   in the hands of the watchers a page is turned over   and the echoes flow on rippling on   on the face of the river      What would I wish for if wishing were having   in the streets of your town I see nothing worth stealing   for autumn speaks leaves to the lost deeps forever   and the clouds echo on echoing on   on the face of the river