Lyrics:

He has thought himself
To the end of things
To a cold cedar fire
In mind, you are beside him there
The house, the churchyard and the field

This, his wind
Sways the grass to dance
To dance before him

Arrow cedar, dogwood, ash
Tipped bone, antler, stone and lash
Hear clanging of hoof and heel
The rattle by roan
On the white mountain
On the black hill shown

The beast, he plays his harp
He does deceive the hearts
False fires in the minds of men

This, his wind
Sways the grass to dance
This, his wind
Sways the grass to dance
To dance before him