O Tumbleweed where do you go driven,
Along like the fast driven snow,
To see the other side of this mountain if,
You really have to know.

But what is there that isn’t here,
O Tumbleweed that you have got to see,
On the morning side of this,
Mountain that is where I want to be.

The grass is greener, the flowers have,
More color and the creeks are clear,
But O Tumbleweed isn’t that what,
You said before coming here.

Your valley here is beautiful that I must say,
But I still have to move along,
The next valley is fresh and new and,
The birds sing a sweeter song.

The mountain peaks are snowy white and,
Reaching for the clear blue sky,
The fleecy white clouds never stopping,
But go dancing right on by.

A lot like me those clouds have to be,
They have many, many places to see,
And staying in anyone place very long is,
Just not very good for me.

O Tumbleweed have you no roots and,
Sometimes aren’t you very lonely,
O Tumbleweed the beauty that,
You speak about is not for you only.

Isn’t there someone O Tumbleweed that,
You with all of this like to share,
Someone to love, to smile and to laugh,
And someone who would care.

Someone to hear, to see the same,
Meadowlarks singing their happy song,
Someone that is just like me,
Who has loved you for Oh so long.

©Dale L. Neill
July 27, 2004
E-mail