Tramping

Oh, it's good to be alive, man,

Good to take the road and tramp,

When the morning smells of meadows

And the lanes are cool and damp.

There's just light enough to see by

Growing stronger as you go,

And the air is sort o' hushed like,

Breathing very long and slow.

And the little furry creatures

Think the world is theirs for play,

Sitting still to watch you coming,

Half afraid to run away.

And there's not a human stirring,

To disturb the field or fen.

Oh, you'll never find your God, man,

If you do not find Him then!