A young girl was singing of mountains and mist
as if granite and moorlands were all that exists
she sang of the heather and sun on the lochs
of tinkling burns born up high in the rocks
she sang how the water runs down to the sea
and I stood and believed she was singing for me
Mar 6, 2011
Mar 6, 2011 at 8:07 AM UTC
A young girl was singing of mountains and mist
as if granite and moorlands were all that exists
she sang of the heather and sun on the lochs
of tinkling burns born up high in the rocks
she sang how the water runs down to the sea
and I stood and believed she was singing for me
