  Once in the windy wintry weather, The road dust blowing in our eyes, We starved or tramped or slept together Beneath the haystacks and the skies; Until the tiring tramp was over, And then the call for him was blown, He left his friend—his fellow-rover— To tramp the dusty roads alone. The winds wail and the woods are yellow, The hills are blotted in the rain, ‘And would he were with me,’ sighs his fellow, ‘With me upon the roads again!’ |
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