Working alone in the evening sun A man and two horses come Pulling a plough on the far hillside Till day is done And the sun has died And leaves are turning yellow In my hair ...in my hair And as time passes through my hands I know one day I'll be that man The horse's eye is full of trust And easy humor in the dust I love the horse and I love the earth The lonely plough is giving birth And leaves are turning yellow In my hair ...in my hair And now I am a great big man I work alone far from that land The plough moves deep inside my veins But someone else now holds the reins The shadow steals across the hill And falls upon the paper mill The men inside come streaming out And the valley echoes with their shout Echoes in the lonely bars And by the silent reservoir And leaves are turning yellow In my hair ...in my hair ...turning yellow in my hair ...turning yellow in my hair ...turning yellow in my hair ...turning yellow in my hair Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass And the eyes of those two Indian ponies Darken with kindness They have gladly come out of the willows To welcome my friend and me We step over the barbed wire into the pasture Where they have been grazing all day, alone They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their Happiness that we have come They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. There is no loneliness like theirs At home once more, They begin munching the young tufts Of spring in the darkness I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms, For she has walked over to me And nuzzled my left hand She is black and white Her mane falls wild on her forehead And the light breeze moves me To caress her long ear That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist Suddenly I realize That if I stepped out of my body I would break in the blossom