Would that I could gather moss no more,
Whether wandering upon a ship forever leaving shore,
Or answering the call of whistle and rumbling rail,
Or laboring forth on mountainous trail,
Always moving, whatever adventure I’d choose,
If only moss were all I’d lose,
But alas, so much more binds me here,
Chains of love I hold too dear
To ever journey far for long,
Family ties are far too strong.
So if I murmur in my sleep
Of oceans wide and blue and deep
No worry or alarm to you,
These are the dreams not meant to come true.