Beneath the cloy mountain grass...

This a very old poem of mine.

 

Oh come hither my lass to the hills

Where the valleys gorge calls out

And sing, dance and shout my love

For what this life is all about?

And if it isn't to be merry my love

And if it isn't to be glad;

Then bury me my bonny lass...

Beneath the cloy mountain grass.

 

Oh come gather me in your arms my lass

Take me back to the sea and the stars

And if there's nothing shinning there my love

Tarry with my heart in your lonesome arms

For the waters all around me love

Are deep and dark, and black

So if it isn't to be glad my lass...

Bury me beneath the cloy mountain grass.