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One bright morning I walked down the glen and down the mountain side.
Not bound to work in the clay no more to go where the day may bide.
And down the borren a cold wind rose, a ghost upon the breeze.
To moan and kick up old angers and torments upon me.
Get back you specters, back you shades that haunt me in my dreams.
For I am bound to see a brand new lover.
And off they ran as small birds sang at me within the trees.
Under the sun and how I enjoyed my own continuity.
It was luck and privilege that brought me here
and strength that makes me stay
and the song upon the breeze tells how kindness reciprocates.

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