Loudon Wainwright III Follow

When the sun sets far away beyond the mountains,
And the silvery moon is peeping through the trees,
Shadows gently gather round the old plantation,
While the bells are chiming softly on the breeze.
Then in dreams I wandered back to home and mother,
Where daisies turn the meadow green to white,
And the mockingbirds will greet me in the morning,
And at eve the whippoorwill bids me goodnight.
Where she's sleeping now the whippoorwill is calling.
O'er her grave the flowers are blooming fair and bright.
Pearly dewdrops on the ivy leaves are falling,
Where the whippoorwill is whispering goodnight.

Round that door the same old ivy vine is clinging.
Now sweet daisies in the meadow are in bloom.
In the treetops I can hear those night-birds singing,
But the old homestead is wrapped in silent gloom.
By the fireside one familiar face is missing -
That tender smile no longer greets my sight.
In that quaint old-fashioned home tonight I'm listening,
Where the whippoorwill is whispering goodnight.

Where she's sleeping now the whippoorwill is calling.
O'er her grave the flowers are blooming fair and bright.
Pearly dewdrops on the ivy leaves are falling,
Where the whippoorwill is whispering goodnight.