The cried softly as dawn rolled toward me
Not like the brayin' of an ol' rooster
Not to wake folks up or interrupt dreams
More like to mourn the day.
I wondered to myself about the sounds of mournin'
Then realized it was a long way from home
Too far from the hills I call home.
The warmth of an old cabin
The smiles of country folks
And a hand thrown up in passin'.
No wonder the rain doves cry.