I Lit My Purest Candle Close To My

Window, Hoping It Would Catch The Eye

Of Any Vagabond Who Passed It By,

And I Waited In My Fleeting House



Before He Came I Felt Him Drawing Near;

As He Neared I Felt The Ancient Fear

That He Had Come To Wound My Door And Jeer,

And I Waited In My Fleeting House



"Tell Me Stories," I Called To The Hobo;

"Stories Of Cold," I Smiled At The Hobo;

"Stories Of Old," I Knelt To The Hobo;

And He Stood Before My Fleeting House



"No," Said The Hobo, "No More Tales Of Time;

Don't Ask Me Now To Wash Away The Grime;

I Can't Come In 'cause It's Too High A Climb,"

And He Walked Away From My Fleeting House



"Then You Be Damned!" I Screamed To The Hobo;

"Leave Me Alone," I Wept To The Hobo;

"Turn Into Stone," I Knelt To The Hobo;

And He Walked Away From My Fleeting House