From Irish halls to huts straw, the wind of sorrow blows,
an’ everyone that hears its song,
knows of the cryin’.
For in the heart an’ in the ear,
the song it goes,
and sends each one to bended knee for sorrow's prayer.
For sorrow’s course must take its hold,
and the joy its wing,
for in this life they have their place,
an’ none can change it.
For in sorrows an’ joys,
this life its made,
an’ though we plead,
an’ though we beg, this life it flies o-on.
So when the wind of sorrow comes,
we know our lot,
an’ turn our hearts to the Lord above,
our God and King!
For in His death He bore our pain,
on sorrow’s tree,
an’ in Him we have our hope for today.
So now, my friends,
ye’ve heard the song of sorrow,
an’ to thee I bid a-do until the mor-row.
Written - 2000 by MMH/MMN
(set to the tune of Barbra Allen)