High up, high up on the hills

A place for making noises

Like whales

Noises like the whales



Here she built a chapel

With her image

Her image on the wall

A place where she could rest and rest

And a place where she could wash

And listen to the wind blowing



And listen to the wind blow

And listen to the wind

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

Listen to the wind blow



I see her in a chapel

High up on the hill

She must be so lonely

Oh mother can't we give

A husband to our catherine

A handsom one, a deal

A rich one for the lady

Someone to listen with



And listen to the wind blow

And listen to the wind blow

And listen to the wind blow

And listen to the wind blow