Caminhando

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Sit down by the fire I'll tell you a story to send you away to bed
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Of the things you hear creeping when everyone's sleeping and you wish
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 you were out here instead
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It isn't the mice in the wall it isn't the wind in the well
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Every night they march out of that hole in the wall on their way out 
   Am
of Hell

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They're the things that you see when you wake up and scream
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The cold things that follow you down the Boreen
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They live in the small wing of trees on the hill
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Up at the top of the field
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And they dance on the rain and they dance on the wind
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They tap on the window when no one is in
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And if ever you see them
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Pretend that you're dead or they'll bite off your head
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They'll rip out your liver and dance on your neck
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They dance on your head they dance on your chest
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And they give you the cramp and the cholic for jest

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They're the ones that you see when you wake up and scream
The cold things that follow you down the Boreen

They live in the small wing of trees on the hill
Up at the top of the field

They play on the wind they sing in the rain
They dance on your eyes they dance in your brain
Remember this place it's damp and it is cold
The best place on earth but it's dark and it's old
So lie near the wall and cover your head
Good night and God bless now fuck off to bed

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