Lyrics
The oak may reach for heaven
And never find a star
But in-between its arms and branches
Shelter who we are
And after we agree
There'll never be the likes again
An acorn small
Begins to fall
And rises in refrain
Sounds just like a fiddler
After he had passed away
I saw a young girl lift the bow
And slowly start to play
A tune to air those woes and cares
Hops upon a string
They can bend a tender flower
But they'll never stop the Spring
Maidín earrach tosaigh
Glan d'aghaidh le drúcht
Cuimhní i do síoltaí
Abair liom do rúin
Croise ag casadh
Óige is aosta
Bríd, chur síos do chlóca
Abair leo do rúin
Maidín earrach tosaigh
Glan d'aghaidh le drúcht
Cuimhní i do síoltaí
Abair liom do rúin
Croise ag casadh
Óige is aosta
Bríd, chur síos do chlóca
Abair leo do rúin
Written by: Clare Sands
