|
I was born on the holy ground |
|
A running child in fields of clover |
|
I was living in the grandeur |
|
Of my father's land |
|
Mmm... |
|
By the side of the swirling sea |
|
I spent the days of childish wonder |
|
And the rocks i held in my young hands |
|
I never felt them slip away |
|
Well the sun shone bright upon the waves |
|
And the wind blew high as i was leaving |
|
And i sailed so far away |
|
Looking for adventure |
|
Mmm... |
|
But i would not stay where the city streets |
|
Proclaimed so loudly man's endeavours |
|
Though music is a pretty thing |
|
In fine company |
|
And the wilderness took my breath away |
|
I felt i had to find my way |
|
Where no-one ever goes |
|
Mmm... |
|
It was in the south that my new home lay |
|
With a dark eyed boy and wild horses |
|
With humming birds and roses there |
|
In old mexico |
|
There the winds of change they blew so far |
|
Of liberty and revolution |
|
And it seemed that each man heard in his breast |
|
The drumming of a nation |
|
Mmm... |
|
Repeat the first verse |