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Peter Paul And Mary Miscellaneous Day Is Done peter.paul.and.mary/Day Is Done by Peter Yarrow [2,6] Tell me why you're crying my son, I know you're frightened like ev'ryone. Is it the thunder in the distance you fear? Will it help if I stay very near? I am here. And if you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done, And if you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done. Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done. Do you ask why I'm sighing, my son? You shall inherit what mankind has done. In a world filled with sorrow and woe If you ask me why this is so . . . I really don't know. And if you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done, If you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done. Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done. Tell me why you're smiling, my son, Is there a secret you can tell everyone? Do you know more than men that are wise? Can you see what we all must disguise Through your loving eyes? And if you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done, If you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done. Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done (when the day is done), Day is done. And if you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done, If you take my hand, my son, All will be well when the day is done. Hundred Miles [2] If you miss the train I'm on, You will know that I am gone. You can hear the whistle blow A hundred miles. A hundred miles, A hundred miles, A hundred miles, A hundred miles, You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles. Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two, Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four, Lord I'm five hundred miles >From my home Five hundred miles, five hundred miles, five hundred miles, five hundred miles, Lord I'm five hundred miles >From my home Not a shirt on my back Not a penny to my name Lord I can't go a-home this a-way, This a-way, this a-way, this a-way, this a-way. Lord I can't go a-home this a-way. If you miss the train I'm on, You will know that I am gone. You can hear the whistle blow A hundred miles. |
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