(McCartney/MacManus). She was counting out the window of the outbound train. All the poles of the telegraph. And the rock-a-bye rhythm in the song of the rails. Couldn't make the sweet bird laugh. Down down down so deep. Down down drowning in his sleep. Tommy's coming home again. And a hawk hovered high above a skinny jackrabbit. Pursued by a hungry fox. And a broker awoke her from a fitful slumber. Then consulted his shares and his stocks. Down down down they go. Down down how he'll never know. Tommy's coming home again. And it's almost April Fools' Day. As he glanced on his paper looking through the veil (?). He could see she was really upset. As she tucked back the ribbon in a velvet box. As he offered her a cigarette. Down down down she took a drag. Now he's covered in a flag. Tommy's coming home again. And it's almost April Fools' Day. Almost April Fools' Day. And the joke's on everyone. He had that premonition. Only dead men dwell upon. But how could he know that only twelve months later. She would wear her skirt up over her knee. And in the very same carriage she'd be flattened with roses. And forget the tears of bigotry (?). Down down down they flow. Now now now it just don't matter anymore. Tommy made it home again. When it was almost April Fools' Day. Almost April Fools' Day. And the joke's on everyone. He had that premonition. Only dead men dwell upon. Tommy's coming home again. Tommy's coming home again.