September seventeen. For a girl I know it´s mother´s day. Her son has gone alee and that´s where he will stay. Wind on the weather vane, tearin´blue eyes sailor mean as Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain for a boy in Fiddler´s Green. His tiny knotted heart, well, I guess it never worked to good. The timber tore apart and the water gorged the wood. You can hear her whispered prayer for men at masts that always lean. The same wind that moves her hair, moves her boy through Fiddler´s Green. Nothing´s changed anyway. Nothing´s changed anyway. Anytime, today. It doesn´t know a soul. There´s nowhere that he´s really been, but he won´t travel long alone. No, not in Fiddler´s Green. Ballons are filled with rain as children´s eyes turn sleepy mean. And Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain for a boy in Fiddler´s Green.

( Lyrics : "Fiddler´s Green", The Tragically Hip ).

Water sings through wind. Sleepy, I hear her soul, travel alone.