klara[dot]nz
By and By
By the stream, high, I'd sit in branches,
And read, like some fairy tale,
By an orchard of apple and pear,
By the rustle of kikuyu, low, I'd sit by rocks,
And watch, like some fairy tale,
By an old bridge, rusting through,
By the light of the eclipse moon, I'd look up,
And, in the frost, like some fairy tale,
By that number plate in the sand,
By the start of a gold rush, I'd stay,
And I'd never go home,
Like some fairy tale.