Evergreen Fields - Shaver

To evergreen fields of my youth I will sing

My steps left no footprints behind

No fruit of the harvest lent weight to my pockets

Small knowledge was stowed in my mind

Now youth has forsaken this old man

My seasons are numbered by three

No seeds have been sown in the plowed fields

No harvest is waiting for me

A cripple for life is the fate of the loner

No fruit will be borne by his tree

These foughts pierce my mind while in echoes of memories

A young voice too late calls to me

Come run through my dream fields, you old man

Search beyond your windowsill

Go touch my high moutains and valleys

Come sleep 'neath my evergreen fields