THE LOW ROAD TO KINLOCHLEVEN
White blankets slope down to the shore.
It’s morning, water glitters through the trees.
Winter will stay whitening the day.
From the isles to the ridge of Binnein Mòr.
Darkness now lifting, goldeneyes drifting,
Above the narrows thunder’s rumbled through the night
Water is falling, mountains are calling.
It’s the low road to Kinlochleven.
I‘ll find a house with empty rooms.
Light a fire and warm its heart out of the gloom.
Now I’m alive and I will drive,
Drive the low road to Kinlochleven.
Songs will now no longer feel the same,
No more room for torment fear and shame.
From Blackwater to the bridge they all call me by my name.
There was a goddess under my feet.
They stole her wooden body from the peat .
I‘ll carve her name on every tree.
On the low road to Kinlochleven
Abide with me, journey with me.
Let the goddess fill the glen with mystery.
We’ll write the story of life and glory
On the low road to Kinlochleven.