Testo Cavalier

The dusty road it wormed its way through the fields and groves To cool ale-house shade and fresly steaming loaves. The fields of wheat are burning, our armies they are returning And I will be tomorrow sleeping in the sun. A bright blue cap of needlewort, laced with tailored cord Was picked for me 'neath the Rowan Mounds -the throne of dragon lords. The fields of wheat are burning, our armies they are returning And I will be tomorrow sleeping in the sun. A lantern's lit with laughter in the leaded window's eye To guide a weary traveller to comfort and fruit pie. The fields of wheat are burning, our armies they are returning And I will be tomorrow sleeping in the sun.