Little Billy Wilson slung his pack and turned to go
The road was deep with snow and a wind was rising
It would be a fortnight before he'd return
To the place he loved so well it was a haven
Thinking about those he loves and why he walks alone
To better hear the voices of the water and the stone
So out there in the chilly night he says a little prayer
Into thin air for all those listening

Within his trusty pickup truck he drove to warmer ground
To the lost and found of the city lights
With one hand on his trembling heart and one hand on the wheel
He thought about the deals he'd be making
And on the busy street corner he opened up his case
Lifted his fiddle to his chin and a smile to his face
Out there in the city lights he played some reels and airs
Through the vacant stares for all those listening

So on he'd go from town to town for any audience he'd play
Any time of day just to keep the music alive
And it would happen a light would shine into somebody's face
A little changes taking place a little healing
He'd have 'em do a circle dance and up and down the line
Little Billy'd have 'em hoot and holler and clap their hands in time
And when the tune was over he'd pass around his hat
They'd give him this and that for just listening

When the moon turned waxed full and headed for decline
The night turned blind over the staggering sea
And over sweetly rutted roads Billy's truck would hum and roll
And carry him toward home in the mountains lee
Greeting him were silent gardens sleeping in their beds
Chickadees and bluejays just waiting to be fed
He put a pot of coffee on and fed those hungry birds
There a song he distant heard and sat there listening

© 1994 Threshold Music/BMI
Westfield, VT