Where the Irishman paid the Welshman to sculpt his landscape
Where the lochs and the mountains gave life to the sea
And there was music; the fiddle players, the Morris dancers
And the flags and the bunting and the maypole and the girls
Where the night stars and the moons shone on the peacock
Where the sound system and the echoes echoed at one
Where the party people became the party people
And the clothes were bright and the clothes were torn
And the flowers were thrown on into tomorrow
Where the silence would wonder will it all happen again
