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The heather will fade and the bracken will die
Streams will run cold and clear
And the small birds they'll be going
And it's then that you'lll be knowing
That the Terror Time is near.

Whaur will ye go, aye, what will ye dae
Noo that the wark's a' done?
And the fairmer doesnae need ye
And the Council winnae heed ye,
And you're on the road again

Woods give no shelter and the trees they are bare
Snow's lying all around.
And the children they are crying
For the bed on which they're lying
Is frozen to the ground.

When yiu need the warmth of your own human kind
You're no' near a town, and then
The sight of you's offending,
The police they soon are sending
And you're on the road again.

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