words Robert Lewis/music Vashti Bunyan

Travelling towards a Hebridean sun
To build a white tower in our heads begun

The grass knows, the hills know, we all know
Spring [bad word]  the good fountain flows.

Each hoof fall brings us nearer the land
Of peat and seabirds and silver sand.

The grass knows, the hills know, we all know
Spring [bad word]  the good fountain flows.