Skellig

Skellig

waves to wash his tears . . .

Ruins of Skellig's Sanctuary in Eire

Skellig's secret resting place

the wind his memories.

He scribed much of History

Tintegel Isle

Harken, John, my word Let not these keys be lost The secrets lie within The writers of the past !

The waves would wash my tears The wind, my memory I'd hear the ocean breathe Exhale upon the shore I knew the tempest's blood Its wrath I would endure And so the years went by Within my rocky cell With only a mouse or bird My friend; I loved them well And so it came to pass I'd come here to Romani And many a year it took Till I arrived here with thee

On dusty roads I walked And over mountains high Through rivers running deep Beneath the endless sky Beneath these jasmine flowers Amidst these cypress trees I give you now my books And all their mysteries Now take the hourglass And turn it on its head For when the sands are still 'Tis then you'll find me dead

O light the candle, John The daylight has almost gone The birds have sung their last The bells call all to mass Sit here by my side For the night is very long There's something I must tell Before I pass along I joined the brotherhood My books were all to me I scribed the words of God And much of history Many a year was I Perched out upon the sea

Music & Lyrics By my muse: Loreena McKennitt