Dreaming of Caldwyn

Dreaming of Caldwyn

I dream of Caldwyn, of merry old days

I dream of the songs and fields of hay

The misty old marsh, lying in peace

Brings me memories of the grandeur of feasts

I dream of Caldwyn, of the merry old songs

The merry old tunes that we’d follow along

The trickling brooks and whispering wind

Reminds me of days where there was no sin

I dream of Caldwyn, the lost old tale

The story retold, of a land still stale

Of olden days when they were of galore

Now they tell of the bloods of war

I dream of Caldwyn, the land from long ago

The days when I would have work on the hoe

Where I’d harvest the grain and make the flour

<p style="text-align: center">Where we’d wait for the summer showers

<p style="text-align: center">I dream of Caldwyn, now long gone

<p style="text-align: center">I dream of a place left in old songs

<p style="text-align: center">Where bards tell tales of merry old peace

<p style="text-align: center">But now the story is starting to cease

<p style="text-align: center">.

<p style="text-align: center">I dream of Caldwyn, my lost old home

<p style="text-align: center">Now forever more is left in a tome

<p style="text-align: center">The strings have ceased and the voice has fallen

<p style="text-align: center">And my heart, the lost beat is finally stalling