My love, she lives in other land,
Which covered fully with ice, snow.
You ask me whom I fancy, friend?
I answer truly: - I don't know!
But just one day I'm in cold blood
Will go and see her then and there.
And not because I'm very smart,
But just because I sort of care.
Alas, so far I can't do more.
I will just sit and watch how falls
Blue ice on dreamer's ball in hands,
In two her hands of crying soul.
I don't have much, too much to earn,
To buy you palaces or sky,
The piper at the gates of dawn,
He will be yours, just whistle, honey.
The queen of France, the queen of Spain,
The queen or maybe just a whore,
I will, will always love again
Like it was thousand years before...
Picture: Terry Rodgers