Living in a place with time

Living in a place where reality is

Standing on a big broad line

Watching it all go by

Ah, but you're taking it all away

the music, the tongue and the old refrains

You're coming here to play

and you're pulling the roots from a dying age



Remember the Buachaille Mor

reaching for the skies from the barren shores

Watching over the village of burns

and counting the days since the gael kept home

but the stranger claims it now

sitting like a king with his gold from the south

don't you see the waves of wealth

washing away the soul from the land



Chorus



Here come the Clearances my friend

silently our history is coming to life again

We feel the breeze from the shore to come

and up and down the coast

we're waiting for the wheel to turn



Free were the fields of fern

Free was the fishing in the coves of care

empty are the homes of old

empty for the sake of summer's cause

Yes, you're taking it all away

the music, the tongue and the old refrains

you're coming here to play

and you're pulling the roots from a dying age