Where the Swallows Fly Low

When the harvest yields none
And the season is done
When the carriage of plenty
Cannot carry us home

When we’re no longer young
And we cannot go on
Will you lead me on gently
Where the swallows fly low

When we’ve sold off our land
And we’ve washed off our hands
From the sins of our forebears
Unchained from the past

When the last bird has flown
And we feed our newborn
Will you lead me on gently
Where the swallows fly low

When we’ve set on our path
And marked out the map
Say our prayers for the day
Since it might be our last

Now we’re out here alone
And the last seed’s been sown
Will you lead me on gently
Where the swallows fly low