Catherine liked high places
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High up, high up on the hills
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A place for making noises
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Like whales
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Noises like the whales
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Here she built a chapel
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With her image
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Her image on the wall
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A place where she could rest and rest
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And a place where she could wash
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And listen to the wind blowing
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And listen to the wind blow
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And listen to the wind
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And listen to the wind blow
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She dreamt of children's voices
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And torture on the wheel
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Patron Saint of nothing
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A woman of the hills
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She once was a lady
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Of pleasure and high born
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A lady of the city
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But now she sits and moans
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And listens to the wind blow
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Listen to the wind blow
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I see her in a chapel
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High up on the hill
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She must be so lonely
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Oh Mother can't we give
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A husband to our catherine
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A handsom one, a deal
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A rich one for the lady
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Someone to listen with
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And listen to the wind blow
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And listen to the wind blow
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And listen to the wind blow
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And listen to the wind blow
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The Wind
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| Polly Jean Harvey |
