namoli brennet

Lyrics

I have borne three daughters
And have known a single son
He was sweet as any
And had eyes like autumn

He was 18 summers
When they drove him off to war
And he died for something
On somebody's distant shore

It was early Friday
When they finally brought him back
He was buried Sunday
In the soil deep and black

And we planted flowers
For to grow upon his grave
And distilled our sorrows
Into water for them

Now the years have passed on
Like the trees he used to climb
It will be 18 summers
Come springtime