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The Hinterland
Trust Fund
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You grew up in the hinterland of artisans and farmers
Who you admired but did not wish to be
Your parents taught you how to work the land and give the sermon
You learned to sew when you were at their knee
Your school imbued you with a natural power
You learned the name of every bird and flower
And every teenage solstice you would spend upon your hill
With the luthier who waits there for you still
On radio, on television
Came a sound and came a vision
That fed dreams of life beyond the dry stone walls
But your patience, your precision
And your family's religion
Meant almost nothing to the others in your halls
And you would tell them all how you felt, if you knew
You would tell them all how you felt, if you knew
You know you like the evenings
The evenings are all right
You could do without the afternoon
The morning and the night
So your parents tell the neighbors as
They pass them on the track
"Oh, you know how Mary moved away?
Well, now she's moving back."
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