The Shadow of Beinn Bhreagh
I've climbed the Highland summit
overlooking Ceilidh Brae
down to Weeping Meadow
where the hounds of hell would bay
and maybe I was dreaming
when I stumbled home at dawn
the pipes were playing softly
and Elizabeth was gone
There's a ghost on every corner
with a needle in his hand
making seven angels
in the Nova Scotian sand
Leviathan goes dancing
in the rising eastern tide
barking at the voices
that are buried deep inside
Sometimes I think of dying
when I hear an evening breeze
whispers of salvation
in the leaves of maple trees
we shared a drink with Wallace
he was trembling with grief
The Margaree was haunted
by a fiddler and a thief
Songs of ancient Gaelic
have bled throughout the years
the drums had fallen silent
as she dried her celtic tears
kissed the sovereign angel
in the shadow of Beinn Bhreagh
and whiskey gave me courage
in the eventide of day
I've witnessed rivers burning
as they fled into the sea
Avalon was never meant
for blades of grass like me
my heart is beating gently
with the rhythm on the shore
dreaming of Victoria
the widow of Bras'dor
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