The sun is getting higher, and the skies above are blue,
And I'm hungry for the garden, and I wish the war were through.
But it's tramp, tramp, tramp,
And it's never look behind,
And when you see a stranger's kids,
Pretend that you are blind.
The spring is coming back again, the birds begin to mate;
The skies are full of kindness, but the world is full of hate.
And it's I that should be bending now in peace above the soil,
With laughing eyes and little hands about to bless the toil.