Oakley Walls from Appaloosa by Tim and Julie Cole

Within these walls the ghosts talk
They whisper on the stairs
They think I cannot hear them
They think they'll catch me unawares.
But I see through them,
I hear their song,
I know their secrets
I've known them all along.

Without these walls the wind blows
It howls across the moor
It's blowing from the cold North sea
And it rattles at my door.
Within these walls the fire glows
Within these walls there's friends
Within these walls love sings
A song that never ends.

Without these walls the fighter jets
Are roaring down the valley side
They shatter my thoughts, my dreams
And leave me no place to hide.
But the traveller's tree protects me
Under its berried bough.
Its seed was sown before men flew
Its sap still rising now.

Without these walls the tree-cracked sky
Frames the dark clouds rolling by
The skylark's song, the curlew's cry
The only sounds I hear.
Within these walls there's music,
Strange notes and sounds
That mingle with the midnight air
As ghosts are gathering round.

• Folk
• acoustic
• Sheffield