The Mist Of Years by Cait Agus Sean
I was coming home in the dead of night
In a cruel October storm
When an old grey man came into sight
His jacket sodden and torn
The mist was tangled in his hand
As I asked where is your home
He spoke as if I was not there
And his voice was cold as stone
Cold as stone
T'was in that far-off land of mine
Dear land I'll never see
The grey church, like a ghost, stood up
And the sundial spoke to me
The grey church, like a ghost, stood up
And the sundial spoke to me
It spoke into this soul of mine
This day, this day is thine
The bright-eyed baby Bunsen flowers
Showered sweetness on the spring
And in the dark green shade, I heard
Singers of the deep wood sing
And in the dark green shade, I heard
Singers of the deep wood sing
And that old sundial had it's say
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