The Prodigal Son
Words and Music by Bill Spagnardi
										
Gonna hike to the top of the mountain
Hike through the fog and the trees
Gonna hike to the top of the mountain
‘Til this blind man finally sees
		
Gonna march right down to the valley 
March with a gunny sack
Gonna march right down to the valley
With this load carried on my back
				
Home, home…going back home
Nowhere left to run
Home, home…going back home
Make room for the prodigal son
						
Gonna dig a deep hole in the meadow
Dig a hole in the cold, dark ground
Gonna dig a deep hole in the meadow
And lay my burdens down 
										
Gonna wash my hands in the river 
Wash ‘em in the clear, blue stream
Gonna wash my hands in the river 
And make my conscience clean 
										
Gonna lie on the bank in the sunshine 
With a smile sown upon my face 
Gonna lie on the bank in the sunshine 
’Til the lord calls me from this place