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

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