The old ways

The sea is calling me home, home to you.
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.

On a dark new year's night
on the west coast of Clare
I heard your voice singing.
Your eyes danced the song,
your hands played the tune.
T'was a vision before me.

We left the music behind and the dance carried on
as we stole away to the seashore
and smelt the brine, felt the wind in our hair
and with sadness you paused.

Suddenly, I knew that you'd have to go.
Your world was not mine, your eyes told me so.
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time
and I wondered why.

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea,
a vision came o'er me,
of thundering hooves and beating wings
in the clouds above. As you turned to go, I heard you call my name.
You were like a bird in a cage, spreading its
wings to fly.
'The old ways are lost', you sang as you flew
and I wondered why.

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you.
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.

The pounding waves are calling me home, home to you.
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.

The pounding waves are calling me home, home to you.
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.