They are more starved for Nature Then one can ever fathom; Oh, where is that secret Off they go in a cabin; that they may frequent All the noise and pollution It melts and floats away; Into life's little solution.
It's back to the plough of life so rough; They like the smithy toil day after day Their life may be starved, very tough, Oh, to listen to the wild loon's call. How it haunts them each day after day; How they stomach their bitter gall? Taking a wooden loon back to the city. Until that cabin is reached it is a pitty. When the wild calls; Good-bye city.
We who are born
"We who are born In country places Far from cities And shifting faces, Have a birthright No man can sell And a secret joy No man can tell" Eiluned Lewis