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The fog rolls in across the highland graves,
I've walked this path for fifty years of days.
My lantern swings above the names I know—
The only light these stones will ever show.
My daughter writes from Edinburgh town,
Says "Father, come and lay your burdens down."
But who would read the names when I am gone?
Who'd tell the mist these souls are not alone?
I read your names into the mist,
So every soul on this hill is missed.
The wind may wear the letters from the stone,
But I have carried you in flesh and bone.
Mist and stone, mist and stone,
You are remembered, you are known.
There's one grave here no one has touched for years,
The name is gone, dissolved by rain and tears.
But I still stop and read it anyway—
A name unknown is still a name I'll say.
Seumas MacAoidh Mòrag NicDhòmhnaill Calum MacLeòid
I speak your names... and the mist speaks them back.
I read your names into the mist...
you are known.
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