The tree we lay under
The thunder, the thunder
Of my heart, and your wonder
And our weeping...
Now we are old, we are worn, we are weary of sleeping;
There’s an end to all sorrow, there must be an end to our weeping:
Come with me, run with me, find with me, laughing and leaping–
The tree we lay under
The thunder, the thunder
Of my heart, and your wonder
And our weeping.