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AmF/AD/AG/AAD/ACB
AmThe poacher and his daughtFer throw soft
Dshadows on the wateGr in the night.A5 D5 E C B
AAm thin moon slips behindF them as they
Dpull the net with noG betraying lighA5t. D5 E5 C B
DAnd later on the coaFst road,
I Cmeet them and the olBbd man wF/Ainks a smilG5e.
AmAnd who am I to fast deFny the right
Dto take a fisGh once in a whiA5le? D5 E5 C5 B5
AmI walk with them, they Fwish me luck
when I Dship out on the SunGday from the kyA5le. D5 E5 C B
And frDom the church I Fhear them singing
Cas the ship moves saBbdly froF/Am the pier.G5
OhAm, poacher's daughter, SFunday best,
two hDundred brave souls sGhare the farewellA5 teaD5r. E5 F5 C5
C5F5C5
F5There's a house on the hillside,
where the drifting sands arD5e born.
F5Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
G5back to the land where I came frBbom.
C Where the Bbmountain men are kDmings
C and the sound of the pBbiper counts Ffor evDmerything. C Bbsus4
same
Did my tour, did my duty. I did all they asked of me.
Died in the trenches and at Alamein
...died in the Falklands on T.V.
Going back to the mountain kings
where the sound of the piper counts for everything.
AmLong generatioFns from the Isles
Dsent to treadG the foreign milesAm
where the sD5piral ages meE5et.
Felt naked dust beneatF5h their feet.
GmFuture sun called winds to blEb/Gow
Gmand the past and present hard-eyeEb/Gd crow
flew huGmnting high and Eb/Gcircling low over
blFackened pEblains oFf EdC5en. F4 C5 F4
REST OF LYRICS
There's a child and a woman praying for an end to the mystery.
Hoping for a word in a letter
fair wind-blown from across the sea
to where the mountain men are kings
and the sound of the piper counts for eveything.
There's a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
back to the land where I came from.
Where the mountain men are kings
and the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Where the real mountain men are kings
and the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Feel the naked dust beneath my toes
while the future sun calls winds to blow
and the past and present black-eyed crow
flies hunting high and circling low
between dream mountains of our Eden.
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