The Cold Acre

There's a place I've been told

And when I grow old, I may go there

I've been told that my family's bones

May lie under the snow there

And with my little bag

And with my little dog

Who sleeps on my chest

When he can't find a hole in a log

And when I go, my dog will know

To leave his old fellow and find a new pillow

Far from the chill of the cold acre

Now there's a Hillydale here

And a Lilydale there

Where there's joy in the living

In voices that ring in the air

(Ah-ah-ah-ah)

I'd stay there but sooner or later

I'd have to go

Where I don't know

But when a dog knows it's on him

He doesn't ask why, he just goes

And when I go, my bones will know

To pick up and follow the wagon

That rolls on the cold acre

My heart is a cold acre

In my chest is a cold acre

I don't grow any good anymore

Though I've seeded my soul with

All kinds of love, that it aches so

(Ah-ah)

(Ooh-ooh)

Though I wake from them mouthing

They leave me not able to talk

All these dreams are not nightmares

But realms I've been choosing to walk

With my little bag

With my little dog

Who rests on my stomach and barks at the oncoming fog

Oh, but when I go, with my lot in tow

Like a vampire carry my piece of the earth

To the place of my death from the plots of my birth

My heart is a cold acre

In my chest is a cold acre

I don't grow any good anymore

Though I've seeded my soul with

All kinds of love, that don't grow

In a cold acre

Nothing grows in a cold acre

I don't grow any good anymore from the bad

Except there's one that you have, one that you had

Oh grow, grow, grow, grow, grow

Oh and plant me in the only place I know

That's the cold acre