Tides of generations past,
Out to sea out far we cast.
Emerald seas green call to thee,
Dark nights depths of oceans free.
Ride the waves crestfallen lee,
To the fickle call of creed,
Silvered by the waning moon,
Coyly beckoning the tide roars.
So softly softly will go with the wren,
Over and under worries of men,
And the gulls will scream for the sea,
Lamenting all you'll never more be,
Hold the hare in sweet esteem,
From from cruel misanthropy,
Oh for to forget the blue,
How far must the runner run from view?
Ships are cast from older lands,
Casting doubt upon my stance,
But there's no guarantee of replay,
Of the past so open wide,
For softly I will go with the wren
Over and under worries of men,
And the gulls still scream for the sea,
Lamenting all you'll never more see
Softly trod I'll go with the gun,
Where the rocks make gold of the sun,
Oh to piece this puzzle today,
Tell me where I find thee tonight
Ship alights these silver sands,
Silken spun by silent hands,
Softly sung a quest of the wren
Why go so far for to forget?
In part it was of will for more,
Still souls of steel bade cold farewells,
Child if through this you would grow,
Forget who you are,
Go back to start
credits
from Whispers in the Boughs,
released December 1, 2003
Fay Brotherhood, production, vocals, guitar, penny whistle