for all traveling musicians (who are all wild birds!) .. and for Anne Dodson in particular.
1. Lights flicker on in a town 'neath the mountain
where night first comes down, like a patch of black satin.
And the road seems too long between Casper and Jackson
when you're tired of traveling alone
CHORUS: Blackthorne and Cottonwood drink up the Muddy.
Just buckwheat and sky between Cheyenne and Cody.
Like a maple wing sown under red leaves blown down
it's time to be going back home.
2. I crossed the Wind River on my way to Big Timber.
People were friendly. The aspen was amber.
Folks sang all the choruses they could remember.
And I slept in a room of my own.
3. And all by the road-side the wild birds fly
up out of the thistle and into the sky.
Red birds .. Black birds .. They sing as they fly.
Thank heaven for wild birds!
They're all dressed up in feathers with colors outrageous!
They soar from this earthly bound kingdon of cages
on delicate wings. So small and courageous.
And it's time to be going back home.
4. You can see the rain coming for miles down the prarie.
Like a great herd of antelope running like fury!
You can stop at a diner outside Canyon Ferry
for coffee and a sense for the town.