O the West wind blows to Coshieville, and with the winds came we And where the river hugs the wood, and Blackthorns flower in May, there stood A single Rowan Tree So young and slender - so were you: I loved you both as there you grew The day I took the road that loads by Rannoch to the sea. Well I carved our names at Coshieville - the Rowan Tree stood still But the darkening West was in my eye: Despite your kisses and my lies, my thoughts had crossed the hill I broke your heart as the minutes passed, I shrugged and said that nothing lasts. But many a backward glance I case, as we moved North to the drill. The big wheels rumble up and down: the lorries know the way I waved my hand, I hitched a ride We crossed the bridge at Rannoch-side, where the diesel motors play. I set my face to a cliff of stone My ear to a Boring-hammer's drone But deep inside I rued alone, for you were far away. Well the money moved from Erricht's Loch - the Great Glen Beconed on At Morriston the hills grew pale We fought and drank through old Kintale Till the money soon was gone. I curse Loch Awshire's Autumn raid, the Winter whiskey in Dunblaine Till the West wind rose in the Spring again, And my heart leapt at its song. So I came at last to Coshieville - with a dozen hills aflame You had another hand to hold - Beneath the names I carved of old, there was another name You looked me through, nor have a sign; I drank the cup of bitter wine, For well we knew the fault was mine - and I left the way I came.