Highland Fireside Tales

(mmmmm) Where the stone meets the salt

in the cold northern air

And the heather grows wild

on the hills of Braemar

I can still hear the wind

as it speaks to the clay

Calling us home

at the end of the day

Oh, the grey rocks of home

under heavy slate skies Where the spirit of old

in the valley still lies (highlands call)

In the shadows of giants

made of granite and pine

We would walk in the footsteps

of your line and mine

Through the mist on the water,

the deep silent glen

We are bound

to the soil,

we are children of men

Oh, the grey rocks of home under heavy slate skies Where the

spirit of old

in the valley still lies (highlands call)

And the rivers will run

where the ancestors stood (run deep,

run wild) Through the bone and the clay,

in the ash and the wood

Calling us home... To the hills of Braemar (home again)