Oft times at night
Oft times at night
Oft times at night I catch the drift
Of songs from long ago
Sometimes it seems I feel the things
I’m sure I cannot know
Days gone by and in the past
Long before my time
Are fresh and present and alive
And sharp as winter’s rime
The songs rise raucous in the light
Of the campfire’s mystic glow
Or from rude bar rooms of the West
Where rough, raw whiskey flowed
The strains come whisp’ring through the years
Tunes that I feel I know
Some drift still from the Western front
A hundred years ago
It’s just half-death before I sleep
When these false mem’ries wind
Their strange and unknown melodies
Around my drowsy mind
Soon I’m asleep and unaware
Of tunes that come and go
But oft at night I catch the drift
Of songs from long ago
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