My Dad sang this to me today. It was somehow familiar, so I’m sure he sang it for me when I was a child.
I looked it up when I had a chance this evening. Gordon Bok sings it nicely, but my Dad sings it best.
When the deer has bedded down and the bear has gone to ground
and the Northern goose has wandered off to warmer bay and sound,
it’s so easy in the cold to feel the darkness of the end
and the heart is growing lonely for the morning.
Oh my Joanie don’t you know that the stars are swinging slow
and the seas are rolling easy as they did so long ago.
If I had a thing to give you, I would tell you one more time
that the world is always turning toward the morning.
Now October’s growing thin and November’s coming home;
you’ll be thinking of the season and the sad things that you’ve seen
and you hear that old wind walking; hear him singing high and thin
you could swear he’s out there singing of your sorrow.
When the darkness falls around you and the Northwind comes to blow,
you can hear him call your name out as he walks the brittle snow.
That old wind don’t mean you trouble — he don’t care or even know —
he’s just walking down the darkness to the morning.
It’s a pity we don’t know what the little flowers know
they can’t face the cold November, they can’t take the wind and snow.
They put their glories all behind them, bow their heads and let it go
but you know they’ll be there shining in the morning.
Now my Joanie don’t you know that the days are rolling slow
and the winter’s walking easy, as he did so long ago.
If that wind should come and ask you, “Why’s my Joanie weeping so?”
won’t you tell him that you’re weeping for the morning?