How heavy do I journey on the way
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend'.
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider loved not speed being made from thee.
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
Which heavily he answers with a groan
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;
For that same groan doth put this in my mind:
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
I bloody hate travellin' away from you, y'know?
'Cos when I get to where I'm goin' and I've got
some free time, all I can think about is how
far away you are. And the horse I'm riding
- would be riding if I had the skills and
budget for a horse - is so slow! It's like
he knows I don't really wanna be speeding
away from you as fast as I can. When I dig
my spurs in doesn't speed him up. He just
groans. Like me 'cos I miss you so much. 'Cos
if I keep goin', I'm just gonna get more and
more sad 'cos all my happiness is back home
with you.
