The soft pungent wind
of summer's wet heat
is tumbling off the meadows
through the hedge rows
reminding me on its return
that you'll be back again, my child,
you'll be back again.
I can see your eyes a sparkling,
laughing through the breeze,
your hair flowing over your forehead,
your hand upon my cheek once more,
your body next to mine,
as we used to be before.
Yes, you'll be back again, my child,
I feel it in my heart,
the choke arising in my throat,
you'll be back again.

And in the fall, when the gray flocks
wing their rhythmic ways south again,
and the frost clings close to the grasses,
the beat of your heart
comes close to me,
and I know,
you'll be back again, my eye,
you'll see your way home once more.
Should winter fall to spring,
the blossoms will return,
then you'll be coming back again,
I'm sure,
you will come back, my child.

And, if you've been here 10,000 times,
then find that I have gone,
remember, I'll be coming back again, my child
I'll be coming back.
You'll feel me in the churning throats
of spring's vast stormy clouds,
and in June's rising dew,
I'll whisper in your ear.
When snow blows down the frozen roads,
and you've nowhere to go,
know I'll be close at your side,
I'll come back again.

This is our land, our roots are here, my child,
God will it for a thousand years, my child,
we'll be back again.