Ely
c. 2011 Stuart Burns

Sierra morning, there’s frost on my bedroll
I’m feeling my age as I watch the year end
I saddle old Gypsy; she complains as I mount up
There’s grass in the valley; let’s go there old friend

Thirty years in the mountains; tools worn and broken
I’ve seen me some color, some flash in the pan
I’ve found a few nuggets, enough to keep going
This old body’s broken; it’s time to go home

Go back to Ely, tell them I’m coming
Tell them the dream still lives in my heart
Go back to Ely If you’re ridin or runnin
If I’m not there by springtime they can make a new start

I remember the leaving in search of the treasure
The promise that someday the truth would show through
Too late for that now; the time’s a short measure
What’s left in the embers will just have to do

Go back to Ely, tell them I’m coming
Tell them the dream still lives in my heart
Go back to Ely If you’re ridin’ or runnin’
If I’m not there by springtime they can make a new start

Ely is waiting, high in the desert
Worn wooden buildings, the cactus and sage
They watched me ride out; they’ll watch me ride back
Pick up the pieces, turn a new page