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The fields of Briah Wah knew the laughter of her sons
A hundred golden harvests, from a hundred summer suns
Four generations raised upon her lands
She gave them all her secrets and a life they could understand
The fields of Briar Wah echo a weary, black crows rhyme
That took me on a trip, down the haunted ruins of time
To where children ran and played on a willy nilly day
Back to my old friend and his steady guiding ways
See the wild blue, western sky
Endless sunsets over Ben Lomond
In our unspoken thoughts we know every story must end
The barley danced in time to the warm summer breeze
Swinging, swaying, swishing as we picked up every sheath
I learned the art of friendship, he made me feel at ease
Ill never forget that white haired boy, from the fields of the summer breeze
See the wild blue western sky
Endless sunsets over Ben Lomond
In our unspoken thoughts we know every story must end
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