September 17th, for a girl I know it´s mothers day,
Her son has gone alee,
And that´s where he will stay,
Wind on the weathervane,
Tearing blue eyes sailor mean,
As Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain,
For a boy in fiddlers green,

His tiny knotted heart,
Well I guess it never worked too good,
A timber tore apart,
And the water gorged the wood,
You can hear her whispered prayer,
For men at mass that always lend,
The same wind that moves her hair,
Moves a boy through fiddlers green,

Nothing´s changed anyway,
Ah nothing´s changed anyway, ah anytime, today,

He doesn´t know a soul,
And there´s nowhere that he´s really been,
But he won´t travel on alone,
No not in fiddlers green,
Balloons all filled with rain,
As children´s eyes turn sleepy mean,
And Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain,
For a boy in fiddlers green.