This is the turning of the year
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The final scene before the curtain falls
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The squirrel, warm within his bed
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of leaves cannot hear the wind
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that blows around the chimney pots
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For like the pilgrim of the year gone by
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Once he was a young man
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who laughed in the spring
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And lay beneath an upturned sky
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on long hot summer days
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But with autumn he grows mellow
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He looks over his shoulder
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Down the long year path of no return
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Already he is but a memory
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Fading like a shadow on the wall
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But time with restless footsteps
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hurries by and now beside the road
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There stands the pilgrim
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of the year to be
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Falling leaves turn to gold
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Silver flowers on my window
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Spirit of the fading year
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He knows not where
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He cannot say, oh no
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Naked trees in the sky
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Stars are shining clear and cold
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The minstrel of the ages
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sings of oh so long ago
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An age old tune without a name
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No one knows
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In the white falling snow
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The pilgrim travels on
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His face towards the sun
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Beyond the open road he travels on
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Past the lamp shining windows
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And faces by the fire
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Before the midnight hour
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For Christmas time
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has come around again
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Go to sleep, little child
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You shouldn’t be awake
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Go to sleep little child
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Time to let the night go by
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Waiting for the sound of a magic sleigh
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The chimneys not too tall they say
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Or the roof too high for a reindeer to fly
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No not too high for a reindeer to fly
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The clock strikes twelve
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on a street below
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They hurry to a church to pray
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«Forgive our sins and negligence
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Accept our humble penitence
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It’s been a year ago today
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Since we were here»
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Choir gently sings an anthem
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Not too loud or out of key
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Congregation turn eye corners
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When the plate goes round to see
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Who gives the most on Christmas day
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The most on Christmas day
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Twilight days are slipping far away
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Just sand into an hour glass
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For winter time is slowly passed
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And cannot last forever
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North wind turn your back
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upon the doors that you have blown
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West wind melt the organ pipes of ice
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That glitter on the eaves
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of the houses in the town
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And the sun wakes up the flowers
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That slumber through the winter
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And warms the sleepy faces
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Waiting for the spring
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The skies of steel
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and fields white with frost
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are memories of yesterday
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And while scarecrow children
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search the hedgerows and splash
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through muddy pools for secrets
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The spirit of the spring
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with the sunbeams on her hair
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shakes the sleeping earth
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And with the pilgrim by her side
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She murmurs in the trees
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And in the ears of all who listen
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«Now time to wake for winter has gone»
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With flowers in her hair
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She smiles again and like a child
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cares nothing for tomorrow
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She spreads her wings
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Catch her if you see her
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in your mind’s eye
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For she smiles in a Mona Lisa way
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Sun is rising
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from a cloud above your head
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When you instead are sleeping
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All is knowing, all is growing
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And no one knows
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which way their mind is blowing
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And now she finds
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her work is almost done
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And like a child
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cares nothing for tomorrow
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And like a child
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cares nothing for tomorrow
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And like a child thinks only for today
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The pilgrim wanders with the spirit
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of the spring, enchanted
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As if tomorrow will never come
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But time is running out
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And as she bids him farewell
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Only the echo of her voice remains
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For now she flies
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On the bare back of the south wind
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Across the naked mountains
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Above the winding rivers
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Breathing gently on the meadows
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Scattering her flowers
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into the grass and the hedgerows
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Fading through the back door
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Long summer day
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Golden fingers pointing at my doorway
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Meadow sleeping
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Watching for the sky to turn you on
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The air filled with heytime
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Blowing past a flower-print lady
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On a seat in the park
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Wears a paper on her head
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She never read at all
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She’s just keeping her mind in the dark
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Keeping her mind in the dark
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You know she’s cool
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She’s just like an ice-cream man
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And don’t you see what I mean
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She’s doing the best that she can
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Doing the best that she can
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Hey Mr. Sunshine
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Like a Harlequin you’re dancing
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on my picture book today
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Ooh It’s a good time
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And I’m floating far away
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Chew on a candy-floss
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in the pouring rain
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Kids are crying again |
Kids are crying again
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Holiday time
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Down on a beach with the crowd
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Trying to look for the sun
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Taking whatever you can
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And your deckchair is an island
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In a kaleidoscope world
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Jamming cars, crowded bars
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Standing trains or smell the drains
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The quiver in the heat of the city street
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God, I must get away
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Hey Mr. Sunshine
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And I’m floating far away
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Down the wide open road
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The pilgrim travels on
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His face towards the sun
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Beyond the open road he travels on
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And the waves steal the footprints
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Of the summer from the sand
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Beneath the silver moon
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The North wind blows
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the fading leaves again
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Around and around
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All has nearly turned full circle
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The warm lazy days of sunshine
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And brown rivers
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winding through the meadows
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are a tale of yesterday
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The pilgrim sighs
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And draws his mantle close
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about him in the smoky evening
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He watches the leaves wither and fall
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Frost has rimmed the pools with ice
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And hung diamonds
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in the spider’s web
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For this is the turning of the year
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The final scene before the curtain falls
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And now beside the road there stands
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the pilgrim of the year to be
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Falling leaves turn to gold
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Silver flowers on my window
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Spirit of the fading year
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He knows not where
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He cannot say |