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Each night in a dream Cape Breton I see,
Where the mountains and valleys spill mist on the sea;
And music is calling through sunlighted song,
And the farmer is waking the sky up for dawn.
Oh, it's sweet as the heather, and rough as red wine,
Where the music runs fiddles and pipes through my mind.
From Bras D'or, Margaree, Inverness, Ingonish,
The farmers are ploughing and nets glint with fish;
Kitchens are smelling of fresh homemade bread,
And children are playing along the cape head.
Oh, it's sweet as the heather, and rough as red wine,
Where the music runs fiddles and pipes through my mind.
And an old man runs rosin along the bow strands,
His fiddle awaits the light touch of his hand;
The sun goes behind the mountains to leave,
And bagpipes are waiting till nightime to breathe.
Oh, it's sweet as the heather, and rough as red wine,
Where the music runs fiddles and pipes through my mind.
Oh, it's sweet as the heather, and rough as red wine,
Where the music runs fiddles and pipes through my mind.
This variant recorded by Ryan's Fancy (Brand New Songs, trk#4, 1977, RCA Records, Toronto, ON, and Sea People, trk#4, 1980, Boot Records, Mississauga, Ontario).
