He came from the mountains, to build a house of stone, he took us to the loch side, and told of the eccentric lady’s home
She returned without her family, she chose to leave them behind, she was an abstract painter, and the most determined gardener he did find
She wrapped flowers in wool and cotton, to save them from the night, with all her love she tended, during long winters lack of light
We twist and turn through the passes, with stories of his working life, of the mountains blue and gold reflections, in cities far and wide
He tells of buying horses, and this diamond mare he found, he tells of having to break her, yet with excitable tenderness she did rebound
He is here and he is home now, but the money it cannot last, once more he will travel, for his labour is the sole provider for his loved and loving caste
