When midnight comes, people homeward tread.
Seek now their blankets and their feathered beds.
Home is the rover, your journey's over.
Yield up the night time to old John O'Dreams.
Yield up the night time to old John O'Dreams.
Across the hills, the sun has gone astray.
Tomorrow's cares are many dreams today.
The stars are flying, your candle's dying.
Yield up the darkness to old John O'Dreams.
Yield up the darkness to old John O'Dreams.
Both men and master in the night are one.
All dreams are different when the dreams are done.
The prince, the ploughman, the slave, the free man.
All find their comfort in old John O'Dreams.
All find their comfort in old John O'Dreams.
And when you sleep, the dreams come winging clear.
The hawks of morning cannot harm you here.
Sleep is a river, flow on forever.
And for your boatman, choose old John O'Dreams.
And for your boatman, choose old John O'Dreams.