The travelling sun,
It tells, it tells of you, to me..
It shows, it shows me where it burns,
Your bruising knee...
Oh yes it does...

And I know,
I know that it will tarry,
These thoughts, thoughts that came to me..
If only, only time would hurry,
And hurry...

And let the hand on the lofty tower,
Let it strike, strike the midnight hour...
So the moon could wink, and the stars twink...
And I would say...
Oh happy... oh happy...
Oh happy happy birthday to the Stranger...