It always came to him as a new day,
He never came to that thought,
Time, weeks, months, years passed on,
Friends never changed or separated (friends bond), ...
Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
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