Wind is howling round
Rocks on stony shores
All on this green isle
The Standing stones
And ruins here
An ancient call
Of lost souls

Feel the anthem of
Stone age history
Safed up in these stones
The whispering
Of ancient folks
The echo of their living

Hear the howling wind
Bloming down from the hill
The clouds are running fast
Up in the sky, and still
I am wondering
What would we understand
If we were able
To ever listen to this land

Hear the voices
Of celtic warriors
Taking over this place
Faint echoes of their battle cries
Are buried in the wind

Such primeval scene
Inundate my heart
When I'm standing here
The stones remain
All silently
The wind just keeps on telling

Feel the howling wind
Touching your soul and skin
The clouds are running fast
Up in the sky, and still
I am wondering
What would we understand
If we were able
To ever listen to this land

Howling, howling winds over this place!
Storm clouds, storm clouds, over the circle!
Lightning, lightning target the stone ring!

Mystic currents flow round the circle
Faint glow, slight buzz, soft pulsing meadow