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.