With the perfume from the neighbour's garden hanging in the room, I'm taking in it all. With the guilt of a lost weekend spent antiquing, knowing full well a love is heading for a fall. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. So I settle in, just like the salt air that carries 'cross the water, and stiffens the curtains threadbare. And whistling kettles, and whistling winds, are my only company for now. I ain't going nowhere. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, shadows in the fountain baby. Shadows 'cross the courtyard too. And though it ain't so hard for me no more, that don't mean I stopped thinking 'bout you. And will I come home whistling dixie? Be moved to ask, "Oh did you miss me?" I return as willynilly as ever, with still old oaks on every corner. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it. Oh, I listen for it.