1. When I was young, I read of a man
Who travelled the lanes in his old caravan
He set out to roam and he carried his home
Round on wheels, knew how it feels to be free
Chorus: So, close tight your eyes now and dream of the dancer
And the tune of the fiddler, and the flickering fire
For the truth in the morning when the dancing is over
Is just piles of scrap iron growing higher and higher
2. He knew where the otter swam down by the brook
Where the first violet bloomed in a green, sheltered nook
And he eavesdropped the birds in a tongue with no words
Twitters and howls, he knew the owls very well
Chorus: So, close tight your eyes now and dream of the dancer
And the tune of the fiddler, and the flickering fire
For the truth in the morning when the dancing is over
Is just piles of scrap iron growing higher and higher
3. Rosemary Lee , of the flashing black eyes
Danced for the company under the skies
And the joy in their faces transcended all places and time
Fears all sublimed on the wind
Chorus: So, close tight your eyes now and dream of the dancer
And the tune of the fiddler, and the flickering fire
For the truth in the morning when the dancing is over
Is just piles of scrap iron growing higher and higher
4. Dark Isaac, the half-breed, the son of the night
Would mix potions to bring to you joy and delight
Rich ciders and wines from his own secret vines he would brew
And very few knew his ways
Chorus: So, close tight your eyes now and dream of the dancer
And the tune of the fiddler, and the flickering fire
For the truth in the morning when the dancing is over
Is just piles of scrap iron growing higher and higher
5. His half-sister Anna, the beauty supreme
Would come, gliding soft, to your firelight dream
And you’d fondle her hair and her breasts firm and fair
And make love, while the full moon above told no tales
Chorus: So, close tight your eyes now and dream of the dancer
And the tune of the fiddler, and the flickering fire
For the truth in the morning when the dancing is over
Is just piles of scrap iron growing higher and higher
6. Cross her palm with pure silver, look deep in her eyes
Old Mother Miranda would tell you no lies
From a clairvoyant trance, she would tell at a glance
Your life’s tale, and if you’d fail in your dreams
Final Chorus: So, close tight your eyes now and dream of the dancer
And the tune of the fiddler, and the flickering fire
For the truth in the morning when the dancing is over
Is just piles of scrap iron growing higher and higher
Yes, the truth in the morning when the dancing is over
Is just piles of scrap iron growing higher and higher
© Dave Pierce, 1974 and 2020.