My dreams seem to happen by the light of the day
Those lost in the dark seem to all drift away
I don't need to be wealthy, I am rich with the sun
with the grass as a pillow and the sky as my home
All the riches I have, could be scarce and quite few..
as long as the sun is my lamp, and the sky, wide and blue...
When the twilight descends, with a red crimson sun,
Find me fragrance of loam, for a tired day done...
I would cherish my bed where the heather is strewn
I think I will stay for the night, 'til tomorrow is noon
I might stay through the night, and search for the stars,
I will look to the sky where forgotten dreams are
While a cloud in the breeze, and the whippoorwill's song
and a nightingale tune, takes me up to the man on the moon