The Cold Acre

There's a place I've been told And when I grow old I may go there I've been told that my family's bones May lie under the snow there With my little bag, with my little dog Who sleeps on my chest When he can't find a hole in a log When I go, my dog will know To leave his old fellow and find a new pillow Far from the chill of the cold acre Now there's a Hillydale here and a Lilydale there Where there's joy in the living, voices that ring in the air I'd stay there but sooner or later I'd have to go Where I don't know but when a dog knows it's on him He doesn't ask why he just goes, when I go my bones will know To pick up and follow the wagon that rolls on the cold acre My heart is a cold acre and my chest is a cold acre I don't grow any good anymore though I've seeded my soul With all kinds of love, that it aches so Though I wake from them mouthing They leave me not able to talk All these dreams are not nightmares But realms I've been choosing to walk With my little bag, with my little dog Who rests on my stomach and barks at the oncoming fog O but when I go with my lot in tow Like a vampire carry my piece in the earth To the place of my death to the plots of my birth My heart is a cold acre, in my chest is a cold acre I don't grow any good anymore though I've seeded my soul With all kinds of love that don't grow in a cold acre Nothing's cold acre in a cold acre I don't grow any good anymore from the bad Except there's one that you have, one that you had O grow, grow, grow, grow, grow And plant me in the only place I know that's the cold acre --- The Cold Acre - Augie March