Autumn leaves in the sunlight
golden hues all around
Rising mists in the moonlight
make me think of Barrow-downs

Mysteries long forgotten
myths that lie still unfound
tales that bring great wonder
make me think of Barrow-downs

The smoke of their souls
rises high in the night
like the flames that linger
from a terrible fight

The ghosts dance on
with their glimmering eyes
as they clap their hands
to the praise of the skies

With a wink and a nod
at the coming of day
they skip and they laugh
as they leap and they play

for they sing as they shout
that they’re really, really out
of the fog and the haze
of the Barrow-barrow-downs!

Barrow-downs, Barrow-downs, Barrow-downs…