Windy hills all round
countless mountain streams
the cold rain hammers
teh dead trees drip
yellow weeds and bushes
grow next to the ancient city walls
a white fox runs by
a brown fox stands and watches
I keep wondering
why is my life like this
and why should I spend it
here in this lonely valley?
I wake and pace all night
grappling with my troubles
And oh this fifth song is
sung long!
call for my spirit, it won't come
it's gone home to my native village!