My grandfather journeyed, like so many others,
He turned to the West and the sun.
He sailed out of Bristol along with his brothers,
A new world was there to be won.
He'd heard of the mountains in far Colorado,
Where eagles flew free in the air.
He'd find a high mountain and live in it's shadow,
For something was calling him there.
"Sail away, away to America,
Far off over the sea.
There is something there in America,
And it's calling to me."
Now all he took with him was what he could carry,
His books and an old violin.
Waiting to meet him: a girl he would marry,
A new life about to begin.
My mother was born there not many years after,
And all of her sisters as well,
And all of the years, all the tears and the laughter,
Are there in the stories they tell.
Now I've gone away, there was nothing to hold me,
I flew off to London and stayed.
But still I remember the stories they told me,
And think of the journey he made.
Now I miss the mountains when I look around me,
And I really can't tell you when,
But somehow the voice of my grandfather found me
And soon I'll be flying again.
Fly away, come home to America...