Cinders to the Wind

Words and music:  Tom Baxter

Chorus:
Oh, when I am gone, give my cinders to the wind.
Let me fly where the breezes will take me.
I'll have no land to claim or to fight for in my name,
And the thunder of war shall not wake me.

I am German and Scot, I  am a European mutt
I am English and Danish and others
Yet I'm none of their own, for the world to me is one
And its people my sisters and brothers.

Chorus

Well, a man takes the land, to defend it by his hand
As a god-given gift from his forbears.
He forgets where he treads is a cradle to the dead
Of a hundred generations before theirs.

Chorus

For dead quarrel not, all their conflicts are forgot
Their descendants are not so forgiving.
For they curse and they rave and they war o'er the graves
Of the dead who think nothing of  the living.

Chorus

For I'll take the high road.  The wind shall be my road.
I'll smile on my people below me
'Til my dust on the fields is a boon to the yields
In a land where they didn't even know me.

Chorus




Copyright Thomas S. Baxter 1993

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