Just off a highway, a many ringed oak tree,

guarding forever his corner of meadow,

saw one hot june day a dusty old pedlar

footsore and weary look round him

for shadow...



"Come my weary friend and lay your pack upon the ground

and I will keep you safe if you should care to rest your head.

Come my weary friend and lay your troubles all around

and listen to the music in the leaves above your bed."



Gladly the oid man

lay down by the oak tree

muttered his thanks and fell soundly asleep...



The old pedlar

slept on for many an hour

resting his head on his hand by and by:

he dreamed a dream that he'd left his old body

and had become a fine gold butterfly...



The golden butterfly went flitting

flower after nower

and dreamed he was an old man

fast asleep for many an hour...



The golden butterfly went flitting

flower after flower

and dreamed he was an old man

sound asleep for many an hour...



The old pedlar slept on beneath

the great oak tree

dreaming his butterfly dream

where he new free...



The golden butterfly went flitting

flower after flower

and dreamed he was an old man

who could sleep for many an hour.



The golden butterflies go flitting

ever to explore

but dream that they are old men