Somewhere the wind is always blowing.

Somewhere there are seeds that needed sowing.

Somewhere there is rain for oars that needed rowing,

a man to the end where he is going.

Somewhere the flowers needed growing,

a field and plain that is now showing,

where the bison once were lowing.

Somewhere over mountains it has been snowing,

their frozen peaks which are now glowing.

Somewhere is a desert with birds once crowing, 

their feathers black no longer strowing. 

Somewhere the river rocks are throwing.

Somewhere the wind is slowing.

The man he is not knowing,

the dam is overflowing.