Living in a place with time Living in a place where reality is Standing on a big broad line Watching it all go by, ah, But you're taking it all away The music, the tongue and the old refrains You're coming here to play But you're pulling the roots from a dying age
Remember the Buachaille Mor Reaching for the skies from the barren shores Watching o'er the village of Burns And counting the days since the gael kept home Well, the stranger claims it now Sitting like a king with his gold from the south Don't you see the waves of wealth Washing away the soul from the land?
Here come the Clearances, my friend Silently our history is coming to life again We feel the breeze from the storm to come And up and down this coast We're waiting for the wheel to turn
Free were the fields of fern Free was the fishing in the coves of care Empty are the homes of old Empty for the sake of summer's cause Yes, you're taking it all away The music, the tongue and the old refrains You're coming here to play But you're pulling the roots from a dying age
Here come the Clearances, my friend Silently our history is coming to life again We feel the breeze from the storm to come And up and down this coast We're waiting for the wheel to turnTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
