Robert Louis Stevenson



                   A Song of the Road

                   (from Underwoods)


                   The gauger walked with willing foot,
                   And aye the gauger played the flute; 
                   And what should Master Gauger play
                   But Over the hills and far away?
                   
                   Whene'er I buckle on my pack
                   And foot it gaily in the track,
                   O pleasant gauger, long since dead,
                   I hear you fluting on ahead.
                   
                   You go with me the self-same way —
                   The self-same air for me you play;
                   For I do think and so do you
                   It is the tune to travel to.
                   
                   For who would gravely set his face
                   To go to this or t'other place?
                   There's nothing under Heav'n so blue
                   That's fairly worth the travelling to.
                   
                   On every hand the roads begin,
                   And people walk with zeal therein;
                   But wheresoe'er the highways tend,
                   Be sure there's nothing at the end.
                   
                   Then follow you, wherever hie
                   The travelling mountains of the sky,
                   Or let the streams in civil mode
                   Direct your choice upon a road;
                   
                   For one and all, or high or low,
                   Will lead you where you wish to go;
                   And one and all go night and day
                   Over the hills and far away!


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