Lyric The whistler


I ll buy you six bay mares, to put in your stable;
Six golden apples bought with my pay.
I am the first piper who calls the sweet tune
But I must be gone by the seventh day.

So come on - I m the Whistler. I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready - for the Whistler. I whistle along on the seventh day.
Whistle along on the seventh day.

All kinds of sadness I ve left behind me.
Many s the day when I have done wrong.
But I ll be yours for ever and ever.
Climb in the saddle and whistle along.

So come on - I m the Whistler. I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready - for the Whistler. I whistle along on the seventh day.
Whistle along on the seventh day.

Deep red are the sunsets in mystical places.
Black are the nights on summer-day sands.
We ll find the speck of truth in each riddle:
Hold the first grain of love in our hands

So come on - I m the Whistler. I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready - for the Whistler. I whistle along on the seventh day.
So come on - I m a Whistler. I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready - for the Whistler. I whistle along on the seventh day.
Whistle along on the seventh day.