These lands These fields that deep to bone holds retains the supple dream. Ah! Far, far the morning glow that tickles soft each blade of green the spattering burn that flows to the lays of hill and glen. Drops that fall like tiny tears transforming the lines of face, tree and leaf. Here in these isles between the worlds of yesterday, today Lies stretched from corner to yearning corner The old ways, the ancient days that are born within us yet. Vibrant that flow which stretches out beyond each pounding beat mindful thought. It is here we return each bone to bone and flesh to earth To sleep deep the pools that are our fathers and this we call destiny