There is a place in Charnwood called Bardon Hill. The highest point in Leicestershire. When one needs time to think and to be quiet and free with the wind in your hair, it is the place to go. Where ravens and buzzards soar, where the copper glow of an october sunset stains the snow bronze, it is freedom.
lyrics
Soft was the run, of a hunt in the snow,
Of the craftiest show of the Magpies hiding place,
Here by the oak, lined in white of a stoat,
Branches reach for the skies, bleeding fire thru the turquoise,
Sea, or sky,
Let the snow, tell its lie _____
A frozen moment remains,
In your eye
Where the river ru-uns frozen go wi-ild,
Feel the wild
and cry
Buteo, go Buteo today I found my freedom,
Catch the wind in a f-inger, outstretched feathers touch the thermal,
Child-ren of the wind come running, tumble round the plateaux,
Follow me, follow higher on, the air it whispers ,
free-dom.
Run with me Buck, follow the Doe,
Round the coppice, cross the stream, thru the Holly,
O’er the walls, to the heather cross the heath,
Keep your footing on the stones.
Run with me run faster,
Hollys singing of the ice, so am I,
Lest it never be said,
Lest it never be said,
Lest it never be said.