He feels the weather turn, looks out across the water
it's the second time this week
he swears he saw her in the harbour mouth
where the morning mist rolls out across the bay
Turns back to his work building walls of stone
across the green hills so overgrown
cutting through the tangle of clinging vine and weeds
he builds his fences so straight and clean
Chorus
and the wild flowers grow in the cracks between the stones
no one knows the mind of a man who works alone
another season gone and the wild birds have returned
but the gorbies never tell the secrets they have learned

they say he got too close to his one and only lover
she came in like a fireship touched his soul with her flaming sails
then she slipped away on a summer storm
Stone fences stand against the wind stand against the rain steady in the gale
a hundred thousand boulders stand pieced together by his hands like a puzzle
Chorus
The mist has turned to rain, the wild birds take their flight
out across the bay, the flashing of the light
and the gorbies know that one more soul has measured out it's life
Stone fences span across these hills, the memory of a man and the monuments he built
a hundred thousand boulders stand the measure of a man and the life he lived