When the journey is over

Will I linger long in my bed?

Will I be laid out in my home?

Or will I be lost at sea?

And my spirit set free for to roam?

Will the mourners all gather

And cry through the night?

Will the banks all close early?

Will they turn out the light?

Will they postpone the day

And hold off the week?

Will the hold off the sunrise?

Will the weather be bleak?

When the journey is over

Will they all gather ’round?

Will the guns all be fired

And no song and no sound

Fill the air in the garden

And the eyes of the young

Well up in wet tears

And their heads all be hung?

Will the young girls all wear veils?

Will each man bow his head?

Will the people all sigh

For the things that are said?

Will the months and the years

Like all the albums of life,

Be counted by pages

By my daughter and wife?

Will my trinkets and treasures

Be stored in the shed?

Will they all soon forget

The father who’s dead?