Overland through the rye   Gun in hand, bird in sky   Calling out to the world below   A hunting we will go      Every field, ripe and fine   Every man, a friend of mine   On the trails that we name or know   A hunting we will go      Throw some light on me, tell me what you see   Every mystery grows like a vine   Reaching out to the sun for a while   And holding the soil forever and ever      Now the sun has not stirred   Rusted gun, fallen bird   Side by side in the world below   A hunting we will go