I'll Be Gone Lyrics - Harlan Howard

When the quiet evening comes, 

And the village softly lies 

Twinkling in the shadow of the mountain; 

When the twilight's muffled drums 

Play tattoos to the skies 

And the heavens close their eyes 

I'll be gone. 

When the fisher folds his net, 

Makes his craft secure 

And gazes to the west for signs of weather; 

When he thinks of his table set 

His children at the door, 

As he plods along the shore 

I'll be gone. 

When the merchant draws his shade, 

Counts the day's receipts 

And smiles recalling bits of idle gossip; 

When the entries all are made 

In the ledger's tidy sheets, 

As he shuffles down the streets 

I'll be gone. 

'Tis pretty, but 'tis chains, 

And I must be free 

So fare thee well ye full contented fellow. 

No quiet life for me, 

No home no family, 

Now and endlessly, 

I'll be gone.