September seventeen
For a girl I know it's Mother's Day
Her son has gone alee
And that's where he will stay
Wind on the weathervane
Tearing blue eyes sailor-mean
As Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain
For a boy in Fiddler's Green
His tiny knotted heart
Well, I guess it never worked too good
The timber tore apart
And the water gorged the wood
You can hear her whispered prayer
For men at masts that always lean
The same wind that moves her hair
Moves a boy through Fiddler's Green
Oh nothing's changed anyway
Oh nothing's changed anyway
Oh anytime…
In memory of Gordon Downie
February 6, 1964 – October 17, 2017
