They danced like sirens,
Hoping the sun would come out again,
And I was born in the fog of that day,
Could they hear a babe, under all that faith,
Or have they forgot what it was they made?
Crawled out of the fog, found a river,
Found a log and floated away,
Didn't think I'd be coming back this way.
But my feet resolute, found their root,
And brought me back to its place.
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And on the hill where I was born,
There is a rose without a thorn,
They cut it off each year and give it away.
But can they hear a babe, after all these days,
Or have they forgot what it was that they made?
So left to wander blind,
I Find myself in cautious times, and they say,
Love's labors never lost,
But labor on to this very day.
So I walk into the fog,
Find a babe atop a log, and all alone,
Took him under, took him on,
Taught him everything about the world I've come to know.
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He blames me for every wrong ever he made,
I'm blamed for every wrong ever he made,
Forgive me I am only a maid,
Forgive me I am only a maid.
But I can still see a babe,
Under all that blame,
But I am forgot from the day I am laid.
Artist: Porta
Artist: Emmylou Harris
Artist: Steve Kilbey