Intro: This is the calendar These are the dates You know you’ll be you won’t know what you’ll see The routes might change so all that remains Is the pull from place to place Bridge: We left our homes in the spring sunshine Things came alive when I knew they weren’t mine Falling in line didn’t matter at all We knew we’d go when we each heard the call This is the calendar These are the dates You know you’ll be you won’t know what you’ll see The routes might change so all that remains Is the pull from place to place Bridge The pylons found fault lines to run through the heart The heart of the land beat with odd fits and starts So they ran round the oldest and grey of the hills So as to let the old die without power or pills This is the calendar These are the dates You know you’ll be you won’t know what you’ll see The routes might change so all that remains Is the pull from place to place Bridge Dublin to Cork though you never heard told There’s a line of good men with eyes wet and bold Where they weep for the crows bearing twigs for the nest Changing the shape of the trees they loved best This is the calendar These are the dates You know you’ll be you won’t know what you’ll see The routes might change so all that remains Is the pull from place to place Bridge The ghost of O’Donahue scared not the lad Who in desert respect lost the smile he borne glad Sat quite chief and folorn and pitched with the spectre Escaped all exhaustions and prayers from the rector And with glancing devout pulled a frown from his sack Weighed with loaves from the oven and ale from the rack Bridge: -hammeron- This is the calendar These are the dates You know you’ll be you won’t know what you’ll see The routes might change so all that remains Is the pull from place to place In the last days of my life Oh I won’t know whether to laugh or cry In the last days of my life Oh I won’t know whether to laugh or cry