Martha Wainwright - Whither Must I Wander

Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?
Hunger my driver, I go where I must
Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather:
Thick drives the rain and my roof is in the dust

Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree
The true word of welcome was spoken in the door -
Dear days of old with the faces in the firelight
Kind folks of old, you come again no more

Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces
Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child
Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;
Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild

Now when day dawns on the brow of the moorland
Lone stands the house, and the chimney stone is cold
Lone lt it stand, now the friends are all departed