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Alan Brown: Music


(Alan Brown)
(St Louis is a deserted croft on the road from Aberfeldy to Amulree. Poetic licence allows its former tenants to have been cleared to “the other one” in Missouri in the USA)

High in the hills with the day fading fast
And a big harvest moon on the rise
Following signposts that tell me
That I’ll be home soon
But no sign says St Louis, no road leads me past
No welcoming light meets my eyes
There’s no yellow dancers to wave
To the big harvest moon

When it’s moonlight on St Louis
You’re under an American sky
Your feet in Missouri but your heart far away
Harvesting dreams till you die

So much for kinship, proud chieftains need rent
And the face of the Lord turned to stone
But out in the land of the free no sins will remain
So the harvest time came and the harvest time went
You fashioned a life of your own
And vowed you would never go back
To the old ways again

So I look at St Louis, its turf and its wall
In the cold wind that blows down the years
The faces and voices of harvests we gathered too soon
But the only sound now is a lone peewit’s call
A call that nobody hears
And the glow in the fire’s just the light
From the big harvest moon