I chase your footstep and I follow every whim. When you call the tune I'm ready to strike up the battle hymn. My lady of the meadows My comber of the beach You've thrown the stick for your dog's trick but it's floating out of reach. The long road is a rainbow and the pot of gold leis their. So slip the chain and I'm off again - You'll find me everywhere. I'm a Rover. As the robin craves the summer to hide his smock of red, I need the pillow of your hair in which to hide my head, I', simple in my sadness; resourceful in remorse. Then I'm down straining at the lead holding on a windward course. Strip, me from the bundle of balloons at every fair: colourful and carefree designed to make you stare. But I'm lost and I'm losing the thread that holds me down. And I'm up hot and rising in the light of every town.