I heard the old man tell his tale:
Tinker, alone within a storm,
And losing hope he clears the leaves beneath a tree,
Seven stones
Lay on the ground.
Within the seventh house a friend was found.
And the changes of no consequence will pick up the reins from nowhere.
Sailors, in peril on the sea,
Amongst the waves a rock looms nearer, and not yet seen.
They see a gull
Flying by.
The Captain turns the boat and he asks not why.
And the changes of no consequence will pick up the reins from nowhere.
Nowhere.
Despair that tires the world brings the old man laughter.
The laughter of the world only grieves him,
believe him,
The old man's guide is chance.
I heard the old man tell his tale:
Farmer, who knows not when to sow,
Consults the old man clutching money in his hand.
And with a shrug,
The old man smiled,
Took the money, left the farmer wild.
And the changes of no consequence will pick up the reins from nowhere.
Nowhere.
Despair that tires the world brings the old man laughter.
The laughter of the world only grieves him,
believe him,
The old man's guide is chance.
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