SoWAIN TuL

There are ghosts that walk the wind,

spirits in the morning mist,

they are not lost who follow them,

bound to find them for to rest.

Bound to find them for to rest,

wild as hares that hasten fleet,

they are not lost who follow them,

through the hills and winding free.

Sir, I am a faithful son,

I will weather every storm,

I have seen the tides returned,

a-thousand times upon the shore.

A-thousand times upon the shore,

risen in their lowing sleep,

I have seen the tides returned,

without age, born to be free.

When I lay me down to rest,

when I lay me in the loam,

lay a seed upon my breast,

so it’ll stand over my bones.

So it’ll stand over my bones,

evermore beneath the leaves,

lay a seed upon my breast,

and know at last that I am free.

Land encircled by the sea,

furrows open to the sky,

wings that whisper in the heat,

songs that answer with a sigh.

Songs that answer with a sigh,

far from all the falling feet,

wings that whisper in the heat,

will they echo far and free?