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“Long ago” is just a whisper
From the eaves and the pines
To the rumble-wheels once bearing
Endless fortune from the mines;
Still the night is for the taking
When the day was barely warmer,
And the girls who hurry by
Cross laughing at the corner

But they all go
Charlevoix, they all go.

The foothills and the carriage
Keep a secret, if you wonder,
And push from right behind you
As you stoop to pass under
The marker that you dropped
By the bluff where you show her
The ending of a season
And the place to cross over…

But they all go
Charlevoix, they all go.

It might be none or any one of us
Who stay to see this through,
Who pulls a coat in closer
And who gives his arm to you;
But who of us wouldn’t follow
From the dusty hallway
Into the early afternoon
Which of us hasn’t always…?

And they all go
Charlevoix, they all go.

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