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My field of clover

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if i die before my time,
lay me down in a field of clover,
leave me under starry skies,
so i can look them over,
don't bury me 'neath cold hard rock,
don't dress me in stark white,
leave me under open skies,
dress me with the night,
please lay me in my field of clover,
where no city lad has seen,
put me in a burning ship,
made of all the wood that's been,
dress me in the great blue night,
dress in stars so i can fly,
so when it is my time to go,
i can become the sky.





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