Talk of Merlin’s wisdom, of battles in the sky
Lofty spires and Dragons fire and Kings that never die
I know it’s true I always knew somewhere in my soul
But the mountains hide the memory’s’ where city folk don’t go

There’s thunder in the mountains there’s water in the gills
And the wind is slowly drawing misty curtains on the hills
There’s a silence in the valley no beast nor bird astir
As sunset fires the ancient spires across Snowdonia

I never was a traveler and I never meant to stray
But from the home that bore and raised me up I’m far away
I’d settle for a season but before the summer rains
I’d be looking a reason to be packed and gone again

I’ve been through France and Germany been to the far Japans
Wandered half a life away in countless foreign lands
And I’ve been blown on sea and foam in mortal dread and fear
Never going anywhere always coming here

Clouds roll through the foothills like an army coming home
And as she moves there’s the crash of hooves and the flash of steel on stone
There’s half remembered voices that I can hardly hear
Like the sons and wives of a hundred lives from a thousand yesteryears

© 1997 His Worship and the Pig

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