Now that autumn is returning and the garden fires are burning And the summer beasts are learning how to cope with shorter days There I labor all alone piling stone upon the stone Feeling just a touch of sadness as the summer slips away As I roll the stone upon the stone Working in the frosty weather when the stones are stuck together Lifting divots, soil and heather as I pries them from the ground And a little work is done till the weak and wintry sun Loosens up their icy grip and I can lay me hammer down As I roll the stone upon the stone The barometer is falling and the forecast is appalling And the working folk are crawling through the January storm Gales 8 to 10* all day almost blow the stones away And my brain has turned to porridge by the time I head for home As I roll the stone upon the stone Now the winter storms are ending and the days are soon extending And an early lark ascending has me looking round for spring Stones taken from the land are warm under the hand And my cup is running over with the pleasure of the thing As I roll the stone upon the stone Soon the wall is moving over belts of willow, herb, and clover And the weasel and the plover watch me slowly pass them by And the air is full of winds as a million stinging things Set me yearning for October in the middle of July As I roll the stone upon the stone
