I count the hours, you count the days together,
we count the minutes in this passion play.
Walk dusty miles, and I ride that train,
on a first class ticket, just to be with you again.
(Chorus)
Picking up tired feet, back from a far horizon,
Cleaned up and brushed down, dressed to look the part.
Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses
to stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart.
Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone,
never inviting trouble, never casting the stone.
But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin,
light your guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.
Chorus