An old woman sits before an old trading stop in the village. No one knows much about her. She does not speak, yet her kindness is known by all who encounter her day to day. The young sometimes forget that the old have carried their secrets, some to their graves.
lyrics
Her sleepy eyes tell the story
Of starry nights in all their glory
Her hair, an ashen hue
Across her sullen face it blew like trumpets o'er the valleys, deep
O'er heather, hollow, bracken, briars that creep
'Round her smiling lips that smile in part
For the rumbling beating of her heart
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
She survived those battles long ago
She laughs for you would never know
Softly weeping for her love
Of the lights set in the dark above
And the dangerous paths she tread alone
Of the night the full moon made her presence known
Her enemies, cast down
Yet her heart would not accept their crown
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Her waking eyes tell the story of crimson skies in all their glory
Her face, an ashen hue
Her soul took to the night and flew
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