How the wind does sing a mournful song
Through the almost empty large old barn~
Like endless spirits come to meet
For a good old spirit yarn~
Sometimes chills a bushman to the bone
Sometimes when the wind it blows~
Bushman hears it all the time
When through tin and boards wind goes~
Howling such a mournful cry
A sound all of it'as own~
As if crying out for deliverance
And ghosts that have'nt got a home~
Singing hauntingly songs of yesterday
Of good and bad of old~
Howling as if caught in the wind
Telling their stories never told~
Rattling tin on roofing rails
Woeful sounds in it's mournful way~
Through a large old barn it howls
All night and every day~
Some say that they hear voices
And cries of the dead in sound~
As it sweeps the dust and grain
Off rails then down onto the ground~
Whistling tunes of sadnesses
Crying as if in total pain~
Higher lower higher once more
Stronger once again~
Different tones of missery
If you'v never heard the sound~
It's the most woeful lonely mournful cry
Of the wind thats to be found~
Composed by natures been and gone
That use the wind to sing~
Traveling through oldest largest barn and shed
The mournful crying of the wind~
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