With the perfume from the neighbour's garden hanging in the room, I'm taking in it all.
With the guilt of a lost weekend spent antiquing, knowing full well a love is heading for a fall.
Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it.
So I settle in, just like the salt air that carries 'cross the water, and stiffens the curtains threadbare.
And whistling kettles, and whistling winds, are my only company for now.
I ain't going nowhere.
Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it.
Oh, shadows in the fountain baby. Shadows 'cross the courtyard too.
And though it ain't so hard for me no more, that don't mean I stopped thinking 'bout you.
And will I come home whistling dixie?
Be moved to ask, "Oh did you miss me?"
I return as willynilly as ever, with still old oaks on every corner.
Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it.