Текст песни
The licht willnae leave me be
It bides past ten and half past three
The sun's got nae respect for rest
It burns the curtains, east tae west
Ma cabin's droonin in the green
The brambles climb where walls hae been
I cut them back on Monday morn
And Tuesday finds them newly born
Lang days, lang days
The warld's ower bright for hermit ways
The hills are dressed in a' their best
And I cannae sleep for sang o' days
The walkers come wi maps unfurled
They ask me how tae reach the warld
I point them doon the brae and say
Ye're in it, lass — guid luck the day
A man wi specs and notebook cried
Is that a goldcrest? — Aye, I sighed
He wrote it doon as if the bird
Required his academic word
Lang days, lang days
The warld's ower bright for hermit ways
The hills are dressed in a' their best
And I cannae sleep for sang o' days
But when the last ane leaves the path
And silence settles like a bath
I sit wi tea upon the step
And watch the gloaming's slow, lang breath
The licht's no cruel. It's just — too much
A beauty past a hermit's touch
The spuggies built below the eaves
They're louder noo than autumn leaves
I grumble but I leave them seed
A hermit kens what small things need
Lang days, lang days
The warld's ower bright for hermit ways
The hills are dressed in a' their best
And I'll no sleep for sang o' days
