He smiled and rubbed a stubble on his chin His shoe-shoe signs a weariness and dreariness of life that's growing thin Yet he didn't have so very far to go With a pencil in his hand he would travel on as planned With a mist up in the mountain through a light Grace, Fenton, Kirk, see him go on his way Oh, they don't know where he is Very, very nice Very, very nice Even in the morning when he's slept Something good is missing There's nothing very much to talk about Nothing very much to see Grace, Fenton, Kirk, see him go on his way Oh, they don't know where he is Very, very nice Very, very nice Talks about the place he'd like to go And you never see the worrying The hurrying that makes a person slow Yet you wouldn't think he'd be so hard to find Yet he looks so very busy but there's nothing on his mind And his wavy hair continues not to grow Grace, Fenton, Kirk, see him go on his way Oh, they don't know where he is Very, very nice Very, very nice Grace, Fenton, Kirk, see him go on his way Oh, they don't know where he is Very, very nice Very, very nice