Em    D     Em        D   Em D     Em 
No more will I down primrose paths wander, as in days gone by; 
Em         D Em    D   Em D Em 
But the track of the white trefoil I will follow, till the day I die. 
G        D 
Though the serpent tries to effect disguise, 
Em             D 
At my three questions he'll quiver and cower, 
Em               D 
As he's reminded once again that he's very near the end, 
Em        D           Em 
When he'll be blinded by the morning's dawning hour.
As the pool 'round the tree becomes a lake of the clearest, deepest blue, 
The branches will change from brown to green, 
And the bark will appear as new; 
Then the murmuring wind will rise and sing, 
And the stars will dance upon the water; 
And a mighty shout will be heard all about 
From God's true sons and daughters.
And the black, bloated raven will croak no more, 
No more will he darken the sky. 
He will beat his wings but the bones will be snapped, 
And no more he'll be able to fly. 
Then the song of the birds will again be heard, 
But their notes will be different than before; 
For now sorrow or sadness will spoil their tune, 
And they'll sing forever more.
The pipes will play on that glorious day, weaving their pattern of silk
Their gentle notes will stroke the air, and the skies will rain with milk
The Possessor will embrace the breath of life
And the arrogant be made so meek and mild.
And everything will they freely bring to the feet of the perfect child.

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