Near a tree by a river, there's a hole in the ground
Where an old man of Aran goes around and around
And his mind is a beacon in the veil of the night
For a strange kind of fashion, there's a wrong and a right
But he'll never, never fight
Near a tree by a river, there's a hole in the ground
Where an old man of Aran goes around and around
And his mind is a beacon in the veil of the night
For a strange kind of fashion, there's a wrong and a right
But he'll never, never fight over you.