Three o'clock in the morning Snowing and I can't go home Coming down in Kingston Christmas Eve the roads are closed Just like Walter Gibson Knowing what the Shadow knows And on their way From Saratoga They burned our fields They burned our homes Candy shop quartet Free coffee and chocolate Dreaming of the pine needles Waiting for my next set Hallucinating wonders Drying out like Benedict And on their way From Saratoga They burned our fields They burned our homes They burned our homes They burned our homes Commander of the troops I tried to capture Bemis Heights Talking in tongues They couldn't get to me on time Forced to retreat I turned and ran to safety In the pines And on their way From Saratoga They burned our fields They burned our homes