0:00/???
  1. Shiloh

From the recording The Road to Elfland

In cart Not available Out of stock

Lyrics

Some letters were missing
from the typewriter keys
That he tapped by the window
glasses on forehead and beard to his knees

He told to us all of his stories
For those who were too young to read
And we laughed and we marveled and shouted at all of it
Everything we'd ever need

He said, that he'd been a sailor
Or, no wait, was it a spy?
Joined the French Foreign Legion
and he solemnly swore that he knew how to fly

He'd won and lost several fortunes
He just carelessly gave them away
But all of his stories were haunted by Shiloh
And he promised we'd meet her one day

The moon was smiling
leaves were passing
An old man looked away to the shore
Waiting for Shiloh, the sound of her laughing
And a knocking upon the front door
He was waiting, waiting for a knock upon the front door

I'd often ask him
Tell me is it all true?
Did your life sound of thunder
And how can I make it all true for me too?

He said, let me tell you a story
And I promise that this one is mine
Writer's sometimes tell the truth in a lie
We're the midwives of all that is fine

But my father would find him
Once or twice of a year
On his favorite barstool
Toasting his demons with whiskey and beer

David it's time to go home now
Let me help you along
But he'd shake his head, and he'd say with a smile
The list of my ghosts is so long
I won't be done 'till the dawn

The moon was smiling
leaves were passing
An old man looked away to the shore
Waiting for Shiloh, the sound of her laughing
And a knocking upon the front door
He was waiting, waiting for a knock upon the front door

The wind shifted east, the day that he died
Bringing whispers of smuggler's gold
And I heard the echoes, of laughing young men
As if they might never grow old

His stories were stacked, in a pile on the floor
A compass of paper so fine
Laying out straight a path for my feet
On pages of rich summer wine

So the wake it was held, the words were spoken
We toasted his years by the score
As the fire lay dying and turned us to shadows
There came a knocking upon the front door
There was a knocking, a knocking
Her knocking upon the front door