Oh ! it's good to be alive, man.
Good to take the road and tramp.
When the morning smells of meadows,
And the lanes are cool and damp.
And the little furry creatures
Think the world is theirs for play.
Sitting still to watch you coming.
Half afraid to run away.
There's just hght enough to see by.
Growing stronger as you go ;
And the air is sort o' hushed-like.
Breathing very long and slow.
And the mountains near by Monmouth
Seem to melt into the sky ;
And the banks along of Ross way
Seem to melt into the Wye.
And there's not a human stirring,
To disturb the field or fen.
Oh ! you'll never find your God, man,
If you do not find Him then !
