Ride on my blind horse
Down the hill to my land
Clutching on to a fat stick
My nails thick and grey
Like the claws of an animal
I hear the travellers talk of a fast changing world
Well not my land or not my world
Rain falling
In a dream
Talk to my horse as I ride
Down the hill
To my land
Sitting heavy and stiff
This body is hard, solid steel strong
These seven years have dragged on
I hear the travellers talk of a fast changing world
Well not my land or not my world
Rain falling
In a dream
Seven years since I saw a woman
Seven years since my mother died
I hear the travellers talk of a fast changing world
Well not my land or not my world
Witness once again, December
Lifestyle of my land
Bless this soul, the forgotten breed
I hear the travellers of a fast changing world
Well not my land or not my world
Witness once again, December
Lifestyle of my land
Bless this soul, the forgotten breed