The Wind

The Wind

Catherine liked high places

High up on the hills

A place for making noises

Noises like the Whales

Here she built a chapel with

Her image on the wall

A place where she could rest and

A place where she could wash

and listen to the wind blow

and listen to the wind blow

and listen to the wind blow

and listen to the wind blow

and listen to the wind blow

and listen to the wind blow

and listen to the wind blow

She dreamt of children's voices

And torture on the wheel

Patron-Saint of nothing

A woman of the hills

She once was a lady

Of pleasure, and high-born

A lady of the city

But now she sits and moans

and listens to the wind blow

and listens to the wind blow

I see her in her chapel

High up on a hill

She must be so lonely

Oh Mother, can't we give

A husband to our Catherine?

A handsome one, a dear

A rich one for the lady

Someone to listen with

Someone to listen with