Oh I often think of you
The hour before it rains
Across the broken days
That brought me home again

You walked into my life
Awoke my spirit soul
You saved me from my deep
Farewell my wanderer's home

Oh! The life upon your lips
Your heart could not foresee
The tangle I became
That brings me home again

Embrace another fall
My year is worn and cold
To you I bare my soul
My summer's almost gone

Oh, so blue must turn to grey
And out upon the shire
All through the frost and rain
I make my home

Mi glydwais fod yr 'hedydd
Wedi marw ar y mynydd;
Pe gwyddwn i mai gwir y geiriau
Awn a gyrr o wyr ac arfau
I gyrchu corff yr 'hedydd adre

(I heard that the Lark
has died on the mountain;
If I knew these words were [bad word] 
I would go with a group of men and arms
to fetch teh Lark's body home)