GREEN LANDS:

What is it about those green lands?

That plucks so hard at my old soul´s strings,

That needles me, just as barbed bee stings,

That beats so hard, at my heart´s old drum,

That warms me more, than sky´s bright sun.

 

What is it about those green lands?

With soft mists low lying, in greys & mauves,

With wide fields inviting me, to roam & rove,

With high rolling clouds & sweet gentle rain,

With Celtic voices calling me, again & again.

 

What is it about those green lands?

Those places with no sun, nor searing hot heat,

Those Celtic places, of sweet song & dancing feet,

Those hidden places, where my blood does dwell,

Those green lands, places, my soul knows so well.