I can't believe that it's so cold
and there ain't been no snow.
the sound of music it comes to me
from every place i go.
sunday morning, there's no one in church
but the clergy's chosen man
and he is fine i won't worry about him
got the book in his hand.
There's a bitter east wind and the fields are swaying
the crows are round their nests.
i wonder what he's in there saying
to all those souls at rest.
i see the path which led to the door
and the clergy's chosen man
bushes and briars, you and i
where do we stand?
I wonder if he knows i'm here
watching the briars grow.
and all these people beneath my shoes,
i wonder if they know.
there was a time when every last one
knew a clergy's chosen man
where are they now? thistles and thorns
among the sand.

i can't believe that it's so cold
and there ain't been no snow.
the sound of music it comes to me
from every place i go.
sunday morning, there's no one in church
but the clergy's chosen man
bushes and briars, thistles and thorns
upon the land.